The Poor Man and His Cup

The poor man and his cup

his most treasured possession,

seated on the dry, broken ground

pondering.

Is he better off six feet under?

Is his cup better off deserted?

or perhaps filled with tears of his wretched soul?

a man’s fate destined for Hades

crashed within,

finding no sense in ‘alive’

seeing the graveyard in his fantasies

in his sub-conscious.

scratching the goddamned earth

searching for a fill,

bingo!like a jackpot…an idea pops up

the man suddenly possessed!

grabs the next sharp object

slashes his finger off,

smiling

getting an high

feels orgasmic.

As he stares at the blood dripping slowly but surely in the cup

it gets its fill

the man’s content,

as he find company in pain.

It embraces him

overwhelms him.

the voices in his head begin…the shout..they taunt!

the cup,like a slave to gravity,lands

million different pieces

and the blood spills!

Is there hope for a wretched soul?

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