Mr. Jones

It's unhappy hour for Mr. Jones.

He's drowning in his own sorrow.

He is filled with sympathy. Sympathy for himself.

He has only enough to get by.

With calluses on his hands,

And calluses on his heart.

Poor Mr. Jones with his torn up heart.

As his life slowly unravels, a tear falls from his cold grey eyes.

His dark history never forgotten.

His existence goes unnoticed,

No one hears his prayers.

He sinks deeper, awaiting his cold, painful, lonesome death.