For the old man…

I’m crying
for the old man
that as a young man
never managed
and now as an old man
is only damaged
no longer a whole man
so he’s stranded
left to fend for leftovers
from the last place he slept over
so he’s famished
no complexion
just blemished
no facade
its vanished
wishing history would repeat
so he can replenish
or he’s finished

So for the old man I plan it
so that I don’t panic
in him I see incomplete
no image
no advantage
he can’t sit down
from no standards
didn’t heed warnings
now he’s empty handed
by definition a bastard
by default a bandit
his excuses routine
his existence random
should’ve, would’ve, could’ve
his anthem…

So I’m crying
for the old man
that as a young man
never managed
and now as an old man
is only damaged
no longer a whole man
so he’s stranded…

-see

©2013 Cornelious “See” Flowers