We choked on our stock's ashes.
1929. The crash. We lost it all.
nothing left to bear my burden.
nothing left to sing my praise.
my body aches. my soul despairs.
Forget friends. Never mind prayers.
The only warmth a stranger's "Hello".
I doubt innocence. What does he want?
I'll sleep on benches and city grates
and wipe my *** with worthless paper.
I'll walk the stairs for the first time
to the top of my building and perch
and gaze upon the city that betrayed
and step into death's cool flight.