Copyright © Priya Florence Shah
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A broken soul, decayed within,
Forever lost to shame and sin.
He craves a place to latch and cling,
A man-child ruled by suffering.
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Entitled roots, a crime-filled past
A loser’s fate was sealed so fast.
The game of life, he played and lost,
A hollow shell, now counting cost.
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He wears a mask, pretends with flair,
Competes where he can’t compare.
He breaks esteem to lift his own,
A demon’s pawn, a mind on loan.
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Toxic thrills, a life of waste,
Parties, vices, fleeting taste.
Voodoo tricks and cunning schemes,
But fading now are all his dreams.
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Body frail, his mind awry,
Illusions cracked, his essence dies.
Sinking deep, his fate is dire,
Consumed at last by his own fire.
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