Through sorrow filled gasps of despair,
I breathed in a rancid smell of failure.
It was a constant reminder of us.
Chewed and spit into gutter trash,
I remained a man of broken hopes.
Though my throat was harsh,
drinking in your excuses seemed pleasant enough.
I began to paint a Joker’s smile on my face,
so swallowing this disappointment wouldn’t look too painful.