The Ode To Muddy Boots

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Kid, people are breaking their backs for those dollar bills you're breathing up your nose. Awake, unaware, I stare out the glassy window screen. Where have you been? (Where have you bean?) He quips. His shoes, unclean, boots to bear the brunt of a days hard work. So I stare him up and down like a jerk. What are you doing at my door? I find my insecurity lying on the floor. Befuddled- begging to ask about your falling mask of sobriety. Why do I? Oh, why do I support your special type of negligence? It's been six months since we last spoke... The ode to muddy boots- Hey man, here's a buck if you're down on your luck. I'm curious, does he think I don't know? I can't see? A dusty nose- rail thin- skin and bones. Boy, when's the last time you had a decent meal? I pull you in- for a second let's get real. Have you seen yourself lately? Tell me, what's the deal? Seems to always be- some girl broke your heart. He takes a bite of broccoli and begins to sing his sad love song once again. Empty plate filled again, starving for a future he will never see without the ability to keep his nose clean.