Stories Gone Untold

drunk

the last of the losers
the worst of the wine
the shades far down in flower gown
the frying end of the line

the sour end of the beer
it's what even pigs refuse
when all is broken down and away
there's nothing left to use

nobles spit at their feet
in the ground where violets don't bloom
when the cup's been sucked dry and thrown
the bitter dregs meet their doom