Once a December evening an old man did come walking

Breath came stirring in old weathered huffs, white and swirling;

But this was no happy time for a cheerless face came strolling

Muttering to himself of what an unlucky man he’s been.


Come last night, a murky night it was with a startling surprise in store

Came a rapture on his doorstep, a rapture at his door

He looked no further than that upon the ground

And with a stifled gasp, struggle appeared upon his brow.


He heard of the stories, of the horror and the gore

Never did he think that such as this would show up at his door.

What an ill strike of fate that caught him upon this hour,

A poor man he had been, bitterness turned him cold sour.

But was he desperate enough to be the man he wanted?

A mirror was only a mirror showing the grim face he haunted.

If he wrote his own story now, would a new life be started?

Should he plunge strongly ahead and take history for granted?


Unbundle the child, set the strange gift free

While the solemn crows laugh at him in ruckus rounds of three.

Throw the ungodly sighting, straight at them in the tree

The hand that flies has fallen now, but he wouldn’t let it be.


He wanted to see the man he was meant to be.

No longer drunken and lost with his wife’s soul free.

A heart that’s crumbled and barely beating, all but within he

If only he took the right step then perhaps Heaven wouldn’t be a fantasy.


I could not save him, though I tried, a sorrowful death he was given.

Right off the bridge and into the depths, he had a life that was short living.

I wonder what it was he lost, what it was he couldn’t be.

That was when I saw the monkey’s paw smiling up at me.


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