One’s future can become one’s past,
If he becomes someone he’s not.
A misfit, a coward, an outcast,
Time will twist, bend, and tie into a knot.
Before he knows it, his life will be over,
Just remnants of his past, only to be leftover.

The ones that remember him won’t wail,
They will only speak of what made his train derail.
His kids, his wife, his life and all,
Will be what made the dead man fall.
When the grave is dug and the casket is made,
His memory and legacy will quickly fade.

His friends will remember how they were treated,
Tricked, victimized, hurt, and cheated.
They will recall how he clutched the past life,
How he forgot to be thoughtful of his future, which held Death’s knife.
The man will rot in the soil, under the people he gashed.
The man will become a man of the past.