One man forgotten
To all but those who carry
The scars of his pain.

Like trash, men’s futures
Litter the fractured asphalt
Of the prison yard.

I can feel your pain.
I can see it as clear as
The tears in your eyes.

His madness had an
Aura of resignation.
Even broken breaks.

When you were alive
I took your love for granted.
How I miss you so.

When I bite my nails
I taste the dried blood of the
Friend whom I betrayed.

Why do I feel like
I’m living out of habit?
I need to kick this.

A man’s life is weighed
Against another’s sorrow
On the scales of fate.

Percocets, hot tea:
The breakfast of champions
And losers alike.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.  Robert McCracken is a gifted poet, and a welcome contributor.  His poetry is strong not only in word, but also in structure.

Robert can be reached at:
Robert McCracken LG8344
Sci-Greene
175 Progress Drive
Waynesburg, PA 15370