The Villanelle From Hell

Two saints use phychological warfare to rescue a down and out street drunk.

A homeless street dunk, down and out, sat on his Bench day in and day out, always a sneer or grumble when someone came near.
From morning to night sat drunk as a skunk, hating his life, hating this world, never a moment of cheer
The trees grew bare as winter drew near, he trembled with fear, wallowed in despair, weeping his tears, thought no one cared

He wasn’t a grouch; was just down and out, mourned his old life, his couch, his wife kids and house .
The demon of darkness, the devourer John Barleycorn himself slowly sucking and snuffing his life light out.
A homeless street dunk, down and out, sat on his Bench day in and day out, always a sneer or grumble when someone came near.

No one noticed when he disappeared, one day he was just no longer there and no one cared
Till one spring day he reappeared, shining and bright wondering the streets cheerful and glee looking for other souls to help.
The trees grew bare as winter drew near, he trembled with fear, wallowed in despair, weeping his tears, thought no one cared

Two strangers passed by that had once been there.
They spoke of their freedom from that life of despair, a living hell.
A homeless street dunk, down and out, sat on his Bench day in and day out, always a sneer or grumble when someone came near.

They chuckled and grinned at his grunts and sneers They knew all too well that life of a drunks living hell
They shared their experience and what it was like, said can’t offer you heaven but we have the keys to the gates of hell and can let you out,
The trees grew bare as winter drew near, he trembled with fear, wallowed in despair, weeping his tears, thought no one cared

He felt the warmth of hope he hadn’t felt in years. found strength to stand, dropped his bottle in the can, someone really cared,
He passed through the gate into a life he’d never dared dream free from sorrow tears and despair all because some strangers cared.
A homeless street dunk, down and out, sat on his Bench day in and day out, always a sneer or grumble when someone came near.
The trees grew bare as winter drew near, he trembled with fear, wallowed in despair, weeping his tears, thought no one cared

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Line count 19
writers cramp entry
Note: This was a struggle None of the lines seemed to fit I had to abandon the sarcasm and humor and just go with the flow, but I think I lost the best parts in the edits and revissions but the clock is ticking and this is the entry,