a shitty poem that will never see the light of day.

i picked up the tabloid trash,
placed a dollar in a poor man's hat.
i gave sight to all the blind,
then found a place to go unwind.
i sat in the cellar, and watched the light trickle.
it moved down my face until i was covered in dark.
i whispered and cried, and was barely alive.
i waited there stifled for some primative spark.
all those hours and all those dollars
poured into this lost man's soul.
all those hours and all those dollars
spent wishing that these were the days of my lore.
i begged and i pleaded, and then i was beaten.
i lost all of my love and all of my lust.
i was just one more heathen barely left breathing.
but i tried to move on and get out of the dust.
i watched it all settle and then i was calm,
then the days of my lore came crash crashing down.
i struggled to beg you,
i fought back to break you,
then the thought had occured,
that babe, i can't make you.
with my head in the dark,
and the lights turned down low,
there was no mess to see,
and no one will know.