Dedicated to him.

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Concealed his past behind cigarette smoke
You might see him on the sidewalk beneath the lamp post

Worn out jeans and days since he shaved
He wears his heart out on his sleeves

He used to worry about the future
Till the universe told him there exists none

He is a poet
Who never inked words on parchment

He is a lover
Who only tasted unrequited love on his lips

He is a searcher
Whose God denounced his existence on the altar

He is a prophet on a mission to preach
His words contradict truth and fiction

Behind his crooked smile and hash infused palms
Lies a gambler who traded tomorrow for today

Behind his worn out existence and courage to survive
Lies a soul who found life in narrow doors and dark bars

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