The Old Bar Stool
Alone he sits in darkened corner
Brief flashes of strobe expose his tears
Eyes staring blankly at bottom of glass
His sorrow he drowns in endless beers
Ghosts drift by as the music plays on
Unnoticed, he holds expressionless gaze
Toward bat-winged portal across the room
Hoping for appearance though smoky haze
Of Siren Temptress he still adores
She the one who created his hell
And she alone could mend crippled mind
To restore to glory and release from cell
Nightly ritual of heart-broken fool
Forever confined to that old bar stool
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