Lockness

Tis the season to be jolly
instead i am curled up in a ball
terrified alone as the wind picks up
the water is frozen to the bottom of
the cup that was begged for
and reluctantly given
a bum on the streets with no place to
live in the december nights life day
to day slowly crumbling before himself
to his dismal dismay ever backward
he's walking and all while they gauking
about the facility of it all
still he lies fetal in his ball
estranged all tangled and dismissed
it would be fitting if a rose was
his last true loved kissed
as they nestle all warm in their
cozy soft beds he lay
bitter on the ground as he thinks
of his kids whom have started
to forget him although he right there
when no place to lay through their window
he sometimes peers and prays wholey to god
some daily to release him from his mess
but the efforts are returned not manifest
"be better best like the rest of the lot"
says the kettle to the pot
people who go on and don't fuss much
are the happies sort of the whole damn bunch
to be reduced to a myth like the great loch ness
as the headline will read he was frozen through
stiff
these word will serve as my immortal gift
if any care to read them ore cares nuff to sift
there is worth in these words
they come from my heart
shattered and shivering just laying
more free than thee i art
through mine art