Im sorry, I have no formal poety training; But, in memory of Hunter S. Tompson, you have already bought the ticket you mite as well take the ride. :yumdumdoodledum:

Hampster Boy Wonder

He sleeps in the sawdust of an abandoned house
all littered with news papers he’s collected from refuse bins
but the sites that he sees depicted on paper
are lacking in the luster of true realization

He runs on his wheel while watching TV
its always on static or public it seems
as the wheel squeaks by the sun sets

When the night comes he pulls on his coat
his fuzzy claw fingers fumble with buttons
then out the door of that abandoned house he slinks
over to Razules to fetch himself a drink

As he walks the people stare so he pulls close his collar
some people make gestures, others don’t bother
he arrives at the destination wounded by hurt
but the medicine inside offers relief from the burns
Away with his bourbon he makes for his cage
all along the way he wishes for the bubble of his younger days
all safe as could be careless and free rolling along
as he wandered he missed the games that he played
He was deep lost in thought of his favorite game
remembering the super hero he feigned
the wind through his hair as he flew above
the hamster boy wonder savior of all

It seems lost in though he missed the sign flashing
All around people herd crashing
with a screech of tires and a scream in the air
his bottle and body lie broken out in the street

The people soon gathered and stopped and stared
gasping in horror at what lie there
his fuzzy little hands and feet twitched
his beady eyes closed slowly and he took his last breath
remembering the wind in his hair