The Old Biker 'Dedicated To B' Poem by satira black

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