A near dead soul
Bled of iniquity,
Hobbles his way
Draped in defeat,
A façade now surly
Etched on his face,
Burdened with gait
That once held grace,
Who journeys in hell
From wrongful deeds
His mind can’t dispel,
Now sadly bears fate
That mirrors his hate!
ode to death of a friendship
Poetry on a Canapé 