He sat lounged back in the chair
The sun shing into his face
Almost as if he had been hit by mace
Yet he didn’t care
There was a point in life where he did
But time took care of that
So, he just sits there with his hat
With nothing left to bid
Even the smallest piece of paradise he still stresses
He works too much to know how to live
And he lives too little to give
It’s his normal for life to be a mess
One day his body will die
For his spirit has been long gone
He himself has become a pawn
A crippled bird who can no longer fly