Wasted

I stare him in the face,
What a disgrace!
He looks back at me,
I wonder if he knows what I see,
A waste of a man,
Useless as anyone can,
Achieved nothing in his time,
And yes, that is a crime.

No one will remember him,
Cruel as it may seem,
No one will remember his name
But he has no one to blame,
Poor sod,
Probably the furthest from God,
Maybe God forgot he was there,
Or he simply didn’t care.

This man stares back at me,
This man is me,
Its the reflection I always fear,
Staring at me from the mirror,
I can’t help but cry,
And I know why,
For I lived a wasted life,
A life ending in strife.