he smoked roll - ups

drank copious amounts

watched girls of a certain age

      his mind afire with hopeless dreams

      he played tricks with words on a page

      had a healthy disrespect

for sanctimonious smiles

cursed his way through every day

lived life upon the tiles.

      When he finally passed away

      he left a wretched smell and

      a song of sadness hung in the air

like an anthem into hell.

His like was always doomed to fail

their suffering complete and yet

      that breed survived the flak

      on the unprotected street

      so as we take our daily bread

and walk the caring path,

remember those whose grief was real

and then the aftermath.