Prosperity's body, wings and soul had grown weak.

Shimmering white feathers had turned blackish-grey.

The broken old man could no longer walk or speak.

Crumbs of utter sadness had consumed each new day.

He had climbed to the top of the slippery summit.

Then everything around him began to slowly implode.

He was totally unprepared; he began to quickly plummet.

His aching head and chest were surely going to explode.

The old man began to cry; he wasn't quite ready to die.

Those hard times weren't about to release that old fool.

His mind had finally given up but still he couldn't die.

Broken and battered; he was trapped in a gigantic cesspool.

Prosperity's body, wings and soul were finally broken.

Bitter blood and broken bones splattered everywhere.

The old man fumbled around with his heavenly token.

The world was quickly crumbling but he just didn't care.

Learn more about this author, S.C. Kleinhans.
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