The former artist at the bar
saturates in his self-loathing.
His potential-trifled away;
His sanity-on the chopping block.
His only ambition nowadays
is to get far away from it all.
His well being-not a concern;
His family-“they betrayed him.”
His hired gun is his whiskey
that beholds his final fate.
His reputation-a drunken has been;
His life-in ruins!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem