It was easier then,
to write, of
defeat, pain, loss,
tears that wouldn’t stop;
easier, to wallow-
in self-pity. In the
It’ll never get better.
That company sings,
a roaring tune, each
night. Check,
the corner bar.
raise a glass,
to Misery, Failure, Self-
defeat. Yeah,
plenty of company there.
Opens at six am-
has-beens, wannabes,
could’ves, should’ves