"we are nothing but dust and shadows"
the drunk man said as he stumbled along
the streets with the burning sun scorching his skin
they all though he was insane
they thought he was certifiably crazy
and maybe he was
but he was also smart
he knew seven languages
and he had enough money
from the days when he actually worked to survive
he had a family, who loved him
but even that didn't stop him from
collapsing on the street and
dying because even though he knew
seven languages; none of them could speak to the dead
and he had money, yes, but only enough
to help him drown out his sorrows
with alcohol
and his family,
who lived him *so **** much
were the ones who had stolen most
of his money,
the ones who only dropped by when
they wanted more
they were the ones who had spat on his
grave and had said "good riddance"
in fact, they let him die in the streets,
his last words being
"we are nothing but dust and shadow"
as he closed his eyes, happy to be free of
such a miserable life