Bar Fight
Have a drink, good sir, I won't implore you to speak of your troubles- Lifes' sorrows; Yet pain that isn't shared Is agony doubled. You don't have to say a word, It's marked all over you- In the day's sweat and grease, Grime and crucifiction, Skin black and blue. Have a shot of this (Not a .20 gauge, But 80 proof), Turn your Hell into a Heaven in a golden second- Jesus juice. You say that work is slow, Family problems, Financial situations that are digging you A grave, becoming ever blacker. Yes, I'm here as well, Drenching tragedy. I want to forfiet daily, Pondering these issues, I cringe, Dare I count them? Blessed with the attitude of "O poor me, poor me (pour me another)", All too vividly these Voices reminding me, screaming: "What have I to lose?" The war in which we have been drafted to, My friend, The patrionic abortion Straight from the womb, Is a battle of the mind, A combat in the soul- Spirits from these crystal clear and auburn bottles Are the cements that fill our God-sized holes. It warms the heart Slowly- Yet instantly. A bind which seems eternal, The blind truth. Daily and diligently. The solution offered to me many Years ago, Is one I failed to heed, I've never lived, But will forever know. t YYYyydsdnmdsm.. . .s'sy\=yp\uy