Melancholia poor bear

I have been to the pits
in my life and I know
that probably
this is the last place
I’ll go
so far removed from the
land of my birth
where the trees and the grasses
were something of worth
I would dart into a stream
on wild honey I’d dream
watch the wolves on their jaunt
hear their howls
that did haunt
the night time
the moonlight
those days long ago
before I was captured
and life as you know
dwindled for me
in these 4 concrete walls
where the wind gets so cold
that inside it appals
my fur isn’t good anymore
its the food
most of its rancid
the keepers are crude
they don’t understand
what my needs are and I
am forced to sit here
and slowly I die

its a torrid existence
people do come
but they spit on me taint me
I am now quite numb
to the low life that threaten me
throw rocks as I
sit here alone
a lonely old guy
nobody loves me
nobody cares
just a smile from somebody
but nobody shares
even that, just that
emotional state
its just sit in the cold
and actually wait

for death with his sickle
to come by and say
it is your time bear
we’re going away
to a place where the forest
will always be green
where the grasses are tall
and where no one is mean
that’s what I now look forward to
when ever it comes
the human tribe hate me
they show me no love
I get wet from the rain
that falls from above
I don’t have a shelter
its get wet
and hope
the sun shines a little
and I well just cope

the food’s always rotten
and the public who come
throw me empty cartons
so yes I have some
cartons to play with
but these days for me
just a smile or some love
would be great
its a plea

to the universe just send
someone who cares
who will hold me
or brush me
or answer my prayers
take me away
from this pit pf a place
and let me again
through the great forest chase
a bird or a butterfly
just let me see
the sunlight that plays
through the leaves constantly
let me taste the fresh air
let me sit down and sigh
let me be loved
before I do die