he lives in the small brick house
at the end of the road
at the edge of the forest
and at the next step to eternity
you may have seen him
ducking his head behind
a sign he carries on his path
that reads "Bless this mess"
for he has always believed
he was the wretch like me
and told his reflection it
every time he looked in the glass
he has begged many a traveler
a passer by of his cottage
to stop and sit and stay
offering his entire world
as meager the offering is
a simple trade for a friend
but none would stay
only some would stop
and fewer would sit
not due to the surroundings of his life
though bereft, his abode was clean
but it was that hollow jar
he kept within his chest
that is what kept away the rest
without the sound of self drumming
the cold silence fell like daggers
on many a visitor's ears
keeping the wretch company
for his many years
