Indifference...

Well past his youth
in his forties
he had everything...
one could think of.
One could imagine.

Sitting in his penthouse
on the tallest tower in the city
with walls of glasses
he looked at the city
without any thought.
Without any love....wihout any hatred.

He looked at the naked body
lying in his bed
with indifference.

He looked at the bottle of rum -
half empty-lying on the table
with the same indifference.

He remembered his past.
His childhood, his parents, his love
with the same indifference.

He held his pistol
as if it was a cell phone.
He tried to remember
the last time he cried
And he couldn't recollect.
He aimed at the city
down below
But changed his mood.

He aimed at his temple
And pressed the trigger.

He had everything
a man can think of
But probably
It's not things
that he wanted.
Or may be, he wanted.
You never know.