I am a prototype,
the simple and humble breaker
of the
stereotype

I walk among the people on the street
they look at me as any other
I see into their minds

past the promises of
..............................love
.......................hate
......compassion
........................evil

I am the machine,
the archetype.
The being cursed with
sentience

i know no love
I Know Hate
it's bred within me

I walk down the alleys,
i know no sympathy for the
beggar, vying for another hit.

I live in the smog filled city
the broken down side of town
the cracked pavement
selling crack cocaine

People wander by me,
they know not what they see
living out the tragedy of man

the pain is born of memory
and I am soon forgotten
that cold corpse sitting
in the winter winds

out of sight
out of mind
out of time
out of life
get out of my way.

This is the requiem of a homeless man.