hobo with a shot gun

they'll wait you out...and you'll be old and alone
homeless... staggering outside of a shopping mall. young people make fun of you, but know nothing of what you've endured. the death of all good dreams and the waking into nightmare.  your lungs and heart black from breathing the smoke of this neon hell and feeling their shallow hatred in their puny minds. the city will drive you mad. no one is friendly. all are adversary. Except for one...
Conform...work or die. Work and die. or just die.
It doesn't matter to your betters, who are all around you. They expect you to be grateful for the fried chicken and double cheeseburgers.  Be grateful for coca-cola! Fuckin hell.
Your rage in your youth was wasted on nothing. Your current state is that of a ruin...insane and yet infantile and harmless.  Gone is pride. and joy too has left you...
the entire world seems hostile, because it is...but only to you. You cannot see it from anyone's point of view.  The young still find bits of happiness in brief encounters, but their confusion is so great...they will not forge real bonds with their fellow humans...they are cruel. mean. and stupid.
you know all this and yet you stumble onward. 
"Hopefully you don't end up like me, just a hobo with a shotgun."