Fists fighting shadows
And hitting the wall.

Bloody knuckles
And old scars.

A safety net
Of friendship, love,
And sheer fool’s luck.

A long time survivor,
Not by strength or wits
But out of stupid chance.

An old warrior
Just learning
How to fight.

A crazy poet
Learning
How to dance.

Maybe the gods like him,
In their own twisted way.

Life as an everlasting coda
For a symphony that was
Never played.

The favor of the gods
Can be bittersweet poison
Difficult to survive.

Still, deep inside,
He just can’t help
But smile.