Tramp.

~111~Tramp.
A crooked nose
Pokes his way
Hate grows
In him today
A tall hat
A cape of black
On the mat
His shoes lack
Crusted toes
Green swells
Tattered clothes
Stench and smell
Drunken disguise
Red on his arms
And in his eyes
Spelt in his palms
Misfortune
Lost in dispair
Stare at the moon
Bathe in it's glare
Tint it red
Pour your dislike
Into my head
Ram a spike
Through his heart
His wrinkled hand
Never will part
From the hate
That swells inside