I Am Still Here, Reading Alone Poem by Mark Heathcote

I am still here, reading alone.
Breast out like a common pigeon,
Gnawing on a discarded chicken bone.
I'm wondering where I belong.

Where did it all go so sadly wrong?
Childhood, parenthood,
Or drowning in the local pub,
Nothing will ever be truly right.
I don't know how long.

The world casts too many shadows.
Across our paths, each is tollgated to be paid in full.
No matter how innocent you started out, .
You'll pay with your soul.
A day's wage here is a week or a month there.

And before you know it,
You'll think the tariff is unfair. 
That's why I am still here, reading alone. 
Breast out like a common pigeon,
Gnawing on a discarded chicken bone.
Wondering where it all went wrong.