satira black

The Old Biker 'Dedicated To B'

His eyes, once a clear, sky blue, look tired now
Lines circle them and run down his cheeks
So cocky, now he walks with a hesitant shuffle
as if fearing what's around the next corner
His still long hair is a steel gray
No longer a liquid gold that shined in the sun
He rarely wears his leathers now
The old biker is broken, beaten
Life has cut him into pieces like a jigsaw puzzle
Scattered, he struggles for control
Desperate for some faint resemblance of himself

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 8, 2007
Poem Edited: Thursday, April 14, 2011

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