Читать книгу Blood Line: Sometimes Tragedy Is in Your Blood - Julie Shaw, Julie Shaw - Страница 5

Slouched, you slowly shuffle, unsure where you’ll safely sleep,

Hood hitched close, hiding your head as you falter down High Street,

Weather beaten face and weary eyes, no longer a welter weight,

A punch bag, a punk, a parasite now, you care not to ponder your fate.

The bottle, the bag, the boxing brochure, bound tightly beneath your belt,

The past, the present, the pain to come, no prickle of pride to be felt,

A doorway, a dumpster to bed down in, destined to die in the damp,

A chorus of chants cloud your chemical brain, seconds out for the champ.