Tue 1:38 AM

The old man dies and the young man crawls
The sick do the same and the poor knows all
But some rise to hold their head high
fearless of the night that falls
disregarding come what mays
or all the grievances of yesterdays
true beauty is forged from chaos
and in that beaten down moment of hopeless loss
neither god nor martyr will know a greater heaven
than the undaunted pauper who simply laughed at fate