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                                                                        

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