an angry face of four and twenty
slacked, defeated
eroded by karma's vengeful smacks
and disappointment's relentless howl

as he would say

a luck insurmountable
dragging, yanking
incomparably worse by far
than joan d'arc's own standards

as he'd tell it

each red light an opportunity
that's shooed at every green,
hope at every shared glance
met with cold closed window,
unsated, his hungry hand
stays

as his story goes

a phoned-in father
with an ignorant wife
bent to his every whim
no structure is made of spared rods
no pearls passed down

as you already know

a shield of cardboard
thwarting, protecting
keeping any ambition at bay
a paladin against self-respect

as his sharpied words show

anything hasn't helped
this isn't the change you need