My huddled form against the night, reclines atop park bench
In threadbare clothes which ne’er hold heat and catch on splintered frame
With conscience pricked by memory of what was once, now hath become
As truth engages with my lips to speak of me unkind

‘Though clang of gates which end the day may keep the world outside
Escape from actions consequence, yet proves beyond my ken
‘Twixt twilight zone of guilt and fear doth heartbreak ever reign
Such burden weighs me down to purge my life of joyful times

Beneath sad willow tree, now tearful at my plight
I yearn release as falling rain compounds predicament
Pray wash away and cleanse my soul of darkness held inside
Before said ‘Gates’ provide intrusion with the Sun’s arise