He sleeps alone on empty streets
on cobblestone still damp,
the bitter cold night air stabs him
but not as sharp as his empty stomach
Escape from what his prison was
to the prison he lives in now
guarded only by his conscience
which slowly is slipping away
He is haunted by the old man’s words
you are never welcome back
still stings his red ears
but going back is to sour to consider
It been but a short few weeks
but everyone has pained him more
unceasing rain and gray skies
leave him seeking warmth in light.
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