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