• Avenue of the Lost. Figures.
    I could rhyme with that
    But some people might lose their hat.

    She walks alone.
    He doesn't care.
    They had taken a dare
    So, He thought, there.

    But He doesn't realize
    That he's chosen his own demise.
    Because if She is gone,
    He dies.

    He rocks in a ball
    As he realizes he's lost it all.
    He feels like a porcelain doll:
    If He's dropped, it's the end of His brawl.

    But He's already been dropped.
    On the ground, He was plopped.
    The doll of himself breaks.
    And His heart is still there, but it shakes.

    It's terror.
    It's grayer.
    It's Lust.
    It's Dust.

    He now walks
    On the Avenue of the Lost
    Straight down the middle.