the music is for the sad man
lying helpless with nothing but hope,
plain hope feeding lice
and gnats and flies and ulcers
and of course worms.
things come and hit hard
and overcoming becomes even harder
but he sings on
full of truth and kindness
and painful honesty;
all peculiar weaknesses
that never aided a man..
only sank him into distress
till he writhes out slow
Ha!
niceties that fed a man to grains.
but his whispers rise on..
P.S
Misfortunes are a real man's way of trudging through life.