Pity

Old man going crazy breaks my heart
on tv

how he trembles how low his brow

the sorrow of his wrongs a life ill lived and yet

these old men without music leave me cold

where is the violin to stir my pity now

on lunch breaks fist raised at the fantasy
dark tower

and now this rain again without a drone
to guide it

this rain this rain reminder of some terror
soon to come and come again

old men so wavering, weak, and wrong