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Monday, September 7, 2015

From Himself

With one last "wish you well"
The Angels went out to play
Innocent without knowing
They spread their wings and flew away
And they left
Him with no one to save him from himself

Cigarettes on the counter
Jim beam on the floor
Looking in the mirror
Not recognizing the face he has seen
One hundred million times before

And the darkness
Hits so cold
When he thinks of the angel harem 
That he sold
For one hundred million dollars worth of worthless gold

And the smile on his face
Hides the place
On the dark side where he dwells
With no one around
To save him from himself

He is riddled with stories
And illusions of a smile
Of a long ago dream
That used to seem worthwhile

No one says
Because no one knows
Just when it will come
Terrorized by the demons
He was born with dying from

He is haunted by the traces
Of the pretty life he left
Terrorized by the places
Touching him but no one else
An easy masquerade
Marching a 40 year parade
Until no one was left
To save him from himself

And he tried to leave some laughter
And some honest make believe
A little more pretty to the pretty world
That will be sadder when he leaves

An empty notebook
In a rocking world of poetry
And his burden rested with the cause
Of making love and being free

He gave them one last "wish you well"
As the Angels went out to play
Smiling as they innocently spread their wings and flew away
The burden left
With no more reason to save him from himself