By the corner window
he sat
eyes glazed over,
as a temple of fear,
which had often wondered
just who, when, and how,
he had finally gotten here.
Twice removed from anything resembling affection,
Three times the seasons had changed,
and his path,
as imperfect as implausible
had remained in the imagination of a stars reasonings.
For him
musings remain a daily observence,
a casuality of war and dismal outbursts.
He was four times removed from
love-lorned lessons
and a slow learner
he remained
at most.
Habitual drug user he'd heard it before,
friday, saturday, sunday,
his drugs are best.
Yet when served in mixed doses,
this corner window,
is the same
as a drug would do.
For life gives lessons
to those who will take it
and to take is to king
as king cannot be wrong.
Thought train starlight,
I know who I am
I'm the product of a generation,
taken from kings.
Copyright (c) David DeSantis
David DeSantis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/generation-me/
