He sputters out his despair
Like bits of broken teeth
The blood and bone of his life
Pooling between his feet
He sits on the curb
Of his possibilities
Runs his tongue along his lips
Then spits for a newer luck
Such chances of change
Are trapped in routine
His daily ramblings
Along a long familiar path
So what should he do now
Hold on or turn around
(September 2011)
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