Raki Lyon Poet Free verse

The Three Men

There were three men I knew—
friends like brothers,
bound together
as peas in a pod.

The first was the eldest,
his smile bright and tender.
He watched the others with glittering eyes,
a silent prayer upon his lips.

The second was a flirt,
a lover of women and of wine.
He often sat alone in the dark,
murmuring dreams of a life yet to be.

The third was the worst—
a loner who despised the world.
He held a scowl across his pretty lips
and wore despair like a cloak.

They were as close as blood,
these three strange friends,
and each bore a name of weight:
Hope, Dream, and Life.

Hope was gentle, radiant,
nurturing both his brothers,
his words like seeds of prayer
scattered across their days.

Dream was reckless and bright,
drunken laughter beneath the stars.
The starry night was his muse,
and the future, his whispered wish.

But Life—
Life was dark and full of hate.
One night he called his brothers to feast,
and slipped poison into their meals.

He watched them choke,
and when the silence came, he sighed.
For Life had nothing left to give—
nothing but hopeless despair.

So he stitched his lips with spells and jinx,
Cladding himself in hopeless despair
for there were no prayers left in his mouth—
Nothing but deathly despair.

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