Slow Your Roll

Alone he sits with an empty can
No life in his glare, a hollow man
Questioning past decisions, with the poison firmly placed within his hand
Maybe he was the son of a wealthy family, who owned their own land?
Maybe he is well-educated, and wrote the books that collect dust on your nightstand?
Maybe he is a father or a brother, who got lost in life when he lost his mother?

Alone he sits with an empty can
The signs of resignation littered all around him
The toothless mouth with the scarred chin
Addicted to his own decline and his future dim
In the lottery of life, his chances slim

From a distance he resembles my mirror
The sly little smile, bearing the marks of a professional sinner
His fear of happiness, and his love for desire
And inside us both burns the eternal fire.
I want to share my hope with him, but I have none to lend
There is but one difference, what lies in our hands:
He holds on to a can, while I hold a pen.

Β©Alexander Berg Mattsson, 2012


20 thoughts on “Slow Your Roll

  1. 3DCitizen says:

    Let the pen become mightier then the darkness in our hearts. The pen is the remover of our veils, so that the world may either shun us or love us for who we truly are… glorious literature.

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