So far things have been pretty great.
Not much to complain about.
Ever food upon my plate.
And yet to be blessed with gout.
I started as a little boy.
Probably crying. Who cares or knows?
Turned into a crawling bag of blood.
Ten fingers and ten toes.
A fun but forgotten formation.
With morning baths my plight.
Mountains of information.
Before a slumbered switch of light.
Sometimes sleep eluded me.
Sometimes I eluded it.
But food was always fresh and free.
Computer monitor always lit.
Avoiding smoked pressure.
As a rarely rebellious teen.
The black of my shirts a measure.  
Of the horrors I've yet to see.
Some studies, stress and cars.
Normal, expected, much like most.
Some loves, regrets and bars.
Some bacon, eggs and toast.

-----------
Or
-----------

Like the many, many others.
With ever waning health.
Untouched by a loving mother.
Not born with relative wealth.
I sleep in slums, streets and shacks.
With whole hunger in my eyes.
I live inside the calloused cracks.
Of a veiled, dirt disguise.
Today's another closing door.
Another dose of killing time.
To letters I am an underscore.
The darkest beam of sunshine.
Tomorrow seems like much the same.
More escaping to get by.
Living inside the cruelest game.
Difficulty set to high.
The transparent cloak I wear.
Has been through the coldest times.
It protects me from the stares.
Of their perfect, endless eyes.
I am nothing but these begging hands
Nothing but a will to cope.
A lack of plans and fashion brands.
The lack of a noosed hope.

Hello again, heartless friend.
So slyly in the backgrounds blend.
Your veering vanish, vaguely here.
Your gaze of increments - insincere. 
Healer of the hearted scars.
Swallower of the heavened stars.
The paths in which we dream and delve.
Allow the doubling ones to twelves.

Slices of the eternal elude.
Movements of monstrous magnitude. 
A hesitant dawdle. A lingered delay.
The mountainous sway is steered away. 
Hoarded heaps of hourglass bliss.
Outnumbered by wasted nothingness.
With interludes of want, of miss.
To slowly morphed indifference.

The pendulums that abruptly swing.
The burdens they still hope to bring.
The envied earn of Earth's endeavor.
The better late. The better never.
The eerily empty echoed need.
The blossomed tree from planted seed.
The curse of a continuous grief.
The ever stealthy, silent thief.

The cogs, gears, hours and hands.
The burn of beauty, bleak and bland.
The coziest, surrounding choke.
The whelm from the transparent cloak. 
The running out. The ever essence.
The grand keeper. The watchful presence.
The potential of the plainest plan.
The currency of the wisest man.

What horrors - hallowed by the tick.
Will sound for both healthy and sick?
Will compose secrets, never told?
Will fumble flame to frigid cold?
The end stays always promptly nigh.
For the intimate, infinite blink of eye.
I fear your wasting, more and more.
The constant count to twenty four. 

Unresurrectable and second to none.
Airborne, regardless of having fun.
As retrospective wisdom blinds.
Our youthful hopes and manic minds.
On and on. From time to time. 
Song to song and rhyme to rhyme.  
Betrayer of all mice and men. 
Less of if and more of when.

Trying
to be a hero
with their
pen and ink.