Good But Dead Poem by Michael Ardizzone

I sat down under a tree
Where above me stood a man
His neck, to the side
As if asking some deep question
Of great importance.

His eyes were slits in his head,
His pupils dilated
(Perhaps because he saw
A nirvana shortly ago) .

I stood there, then
A thought crossed my mind:
Was innocence a possibility in this world?

An answer: No.
But perhaps life is something that makes anyone good.
The man above me was neither
He was a victim of society.
He was good, but dead.