Sadsacks Secrets
As he sat beneath a lonely brow
A drip of wet, soaks a dirty towel
A tooth did titter from the sound of a distant tent
A feeling of grope from a choking air vent
A withered hand picks at an angel’s delight
A pointing fat demon with his taunting cats bite
A single copper coin falls without a sound
An invisible sight from beneath the ground
A dripping fat tear rolls away down his chin
As his glass of sweet bitter swirls around in his gin
A fart of a sound omits from his throat
As a single grey fag ash in his glass it did float
A boorish mood takes over from him
As he decides not to chuckle, so only a grin
A life of alone flashes by in a pan
As he stares toward me wondering just who I am
Who am I?
