Alex was one nincompoop with a lot of hubris
His unchallenged ego was ruined in debris
Vagabonds from around the world adored his wit
Until he ascended into Heavens and God ordered him to sit
Vagabonds, of course, homeless people they are
The denizens, the natives of earth who walk too far
Reminisces Alex about good times in Carthage
As words he writes fly by as his life nears a stoppage
His will to return back to the world was pending
Until God rejected the offer and sent him to the ending
Cryptic were the words he wrote in his diary
No mere mortal was able to understand his inquiry
His solitary days were long over by now
The joy of being alone was disturbed by a cow
An intangible suffering of the mind emits
From the fire underneath that burns him into bits
Gaunt were his elbows, his bones visible through
His legs thin and long, his face a sickly blue
He may have evaded some phony people’s agreement,
But he could not escape the wrath of divine judgment,
If you ask him how it feels, he’d say it’s claustrophobic
The walls closing in on him, the utterances of a homophobic
The vermin gnaw eerily at his feet, tearing pieces of flesh out
Still no one knows what the suffering was about
He orchestrated all of his plans rather meticulously
Only ending up wishing to be saved deviously
Wishing only to lead a life that is recluse
Hiding from everyone for your joys is no excuse
His polarization from the family that raised him
Led to a split that eventually razed him
His demise was not an honorable one indeed
As he cried for help, ruined by his own greed
His flamboyant personality is now long gone
He cannot play the piano, nor can he imitate Don Juan
Complains he about his posthumous legacy
As after death, all that lives on is his hypocrisy...
