Depraved Soul

He fancied himself
A fine gent
Eager to serve
That talk of him..
Was desultory

They were wenches
He said
Trying to destroy the fabric
Of his daily existence

He was a depraved soul
Hopeless prey

Why then...
Was his claim to nobility
A disorderly..
Pile of crumbs

©2005, Hopefloats.

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