Afterthought

Posted on January 1, 2013

3


He’s just an afterthought
if he’s lucky
Not even that sometimes
yet he gives his heart
and soul to all

But he sheds tears
in the stillness of
the night
Of a suffering and
loneliness
unknown by most

A broken heart
A soul torn to shreds
Left alone
neglected
and lost
Forgotten

He sits with
a tumbler in hand
The glass almost empty
Legs running
down the glass
Running away from him

Like everyone else does
eventually
His glass empty now
Like his heart
as he sits
in the dark
waiting for the
light
the doorway to
somewhere else

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Posted in: Poetry