He sits upon a cardboard throne
A king in a broken home
His roof a bridge
His fanfare the roaring of the trucks
He used to lounge feet up
With his buddies beside a jewel green forest
Now his only jester is a bottle
Wrapped in brown paper
He begs for coins
Lost in memories
Sometimes someone buys him a meal
He thanks them
But he'd rather drink
Numb the pain
Make life bearable
What life there is left
__________________
Burn Burn Burn
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