His eyes are cursed they say <br />for he's seen no light even at day <br />he's blinded by his own negativity <br />which introduced him to bipolarity <br /> <br />he walked the slums with grease as clothe <br />and a butterfly knife for the ones he loathe <br />for every kill he tears sludge <br />and every tear's offered to grudge <br /> <br />and when he tried to banish the hate <br />he's fallen in too deep, it was too late <br />now he sees the light at the brink of his death <br />the poor man smiles as he sighed his last breath.<br /><br />Kriztan Rei Palces<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poor-man-3/
