Dipping His Toe Into Pathetic Ink Poem by Eillio Imbasciati

Faced with genuine collapse,
He yielded to regret
Offering poison in large quantities,
Sold from the back of his mind
He had the cure for years, which kept him well for a time,
But that was just music
Going feeble, getting lax,
Nothing is learned from cutting corners
Humiliated and exposed,
Skin embarrassed to be red
Prepared to chronicle such disillusionment,
Dipping his toe into pathetic ink,
Until he realizes where he stands:
On foot with little to write home about