He ruled the streets, and lived the carefee life of many-
he ruled the world he thought. But that was about to change.
Unable to avoid the bloodshed in his barkyard, he laid there, helpless.
As he held on for dear life, his escapades flashed before his eyes.
he knew the end of his road was approaching.
He had two options-to bury his vices or let them ruin him.
As he held on to her, panting, sweating and losing focus,
he knew he had to go back to his roots,
to the one place where he knew he could find peace.
In the arms of his maker. He was the only person his vices
had not driven away.
For He knew with him, all was well.