In A Lonely Alley Poem by Theorem The Truth Serum

In a lonely alley
fermented by piss
and human excrement,
a man slumped
on the pavement
held a cup with
a little silver
and copper change.
His eyes were half open
and his breath smelled
of dog and liquor.

What a hopeless old fellow,
who looked to be in his wrinkled
up old age without an idea
and without a penny to call his own.
Everything has been donated
and he just exists on the edge of life.
The man must have beat him down
long ago with a billy club.
Something bludgeoned
him down and took away his will.
Whether it was him or whoever,
something happened to this man.

You have lost, but it isn't over yet.
You have got a few more punches
to take and the real killer is the weather.
Give him a blanket
Give him a smile
because this man has not seen one
in a while.