He was a rock star all his life.
Never depressed a fan;
Never missed a show.
He felt like God to many,
And was immortal for all of his life being.
However, that soon changed one day.
He was sick; sick inside a blue mood,
And all he had was his guitar.
He sat in bed all day,
Wanting to move around and "rock" 'til he dropped, but couldn't.
Overtime, he lost money and lost his home and food.
He lay on the street with his possession,
Looking down at Earth,
In his old, torn clothes.
He dreams of a better tomorrow as his head rises towards hope.
He sings songs for tips,
But no one has ever noticed him.
He is a different person now,
And he will be known as,
The Old Guitarist.