Tasting Defeat.

Bleeding

through a dirty cloth

The
pain horrendously gnawing at me

I
see through a pair of broken glasses

A
world decaying and on it's grazed knees.

I'm
saddened by the news

That
 my friend battled through

But
caught himself on the barb wire of alcohol

He's
no longer walking the streets

He's
classified dead, and I'm tasting defeat.

The
scars on my arms

Are
a reminder of my harsh life

I
patrolled the sector of dishonesty for too long

Clapping
at the blackness flooding the light.

The
dreams in my head flap like a bird

I
must keep the wings from wearing out

I
must conquer my fears and this hazardous pain

I
must cry like a baby and scream and shout.