He stepped upon his wooden chair
Its wood stiff & sturdy.
Pondered recent weeks & years
How things got fucked up & dirty.
Considered all the what-if’s, how’s & the wonder whys.
Cascaded through his mind
Counted & recounted the blunders & their size.
That wooden chair
3 wide rungs to climb.
Each step’s ascent
His life’s dissent
Gave way to Father Time.
One step for pain & suffering.
Second for the joy.
Third for oceans of emotions
Stolen as a boy.
Belt in hand
Fewer grains of sand
Pass from top to bottom.
He’d lived this life to his completion
His wounds were worn & rotten.
Broken neck & broken breath
He’s left the world a heap.
With tired eyes & stolen lies,
His pain…can finally sleep.