A long anticipated drink in a cold glass,
For a dry throat to fulfill its needs.
One cheap drink for a defeated man,
To let go on pain and deny his deeds.

Drowning out his sorrow with this Amber drink.
A middle aged man with graying hair.
Years he’d addressed though thirst.
Tumbling down the street while all stop to stare.

But now his head lays upon the oak counter.
Wondering what had gone wrong.
Relying on this Amber glass.
Which he had lived for so long.

He stumbles though the park.
Then into a stranger’s Driveway.
Nausea over comes his body.
As he starts to tip sideways.

The dark cold night takes his body.
unconscious though still throwing up.
Slowly dying an awkward death.
All for that Amber cup.

The rising sun finds his body.
Though sadly he’s so pale.
Alone he died with his regrets.
But is mouth is still so stale.

Will anyone every mourn him?
Will anyone ever know?
Will a name be put upon this face.
For this nameless Jon Doe.
 
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