Munching, he fills his beer belly.
    Narrowing his decaying eyes,
    He watches the youths.
    Stumbling over the rotting sofa,
    He brandishes an unsteady hand,
    Declaring his murderous intents.
    Puffing his flabby chest,
    His weak chin pointing up, he preens.
    Demandingly, he points
    Toward the moldy bedroom.
    Eyeing a dangling bauble, he snatches.
    Stealing away a precious symbol of hope.
    Lurching, he curses God for his life
    Hitting the decomposing floor,
    He falls into a drunken stupor.
    Only to repeat this day,
    Over and over.
    Until, the faithful day.
    The day a bullet rings out.