Off in the distance, he can hear a canine bark.
Today the wind is chilling and it looks like rain.
He chased his life again this week, feeling insane,
and yet somehow, he feels like he has missed his mark.
So now he sits alone.
A horn honks, as a paper tumbles by his feet.
He fidgets as the cold drives his ears and nose numb.
Continuously adds, but never likes the sum,
continuously fights, but always gets beat.
So now he lives alone.
A hot dog vendor, putting odors on the air.
He scratches his cheek and reminds himself to shave.
He figures, all tolled it's not worth all that he gave,
in the rear of all these years, if something could be fair.
So now he walks alone.
Red, gold and brown are the dampened leaves on the ground.
His arm hurts, his breath is short and his chest is tight,
he's down on his knees unable, unwilling to fight.
Kids laughing in the park is his final heard sound.
So now he dies. Alone.
