Are a bard-breaking
ballad of woe.
I thought that your end
was the end of the path.
I'm still looking for
someplace to go.
When absurd takes a
turn for the tragic,
We reach out and keep
limping along.
Call it “crutch,”
or maybe “diversion,”
Be it vice or a hobby
or song.
Some people turn to
drinking,
But I'd never turned
away.
Some people stare at
their ceilings all night,
and some at their TVs
all day.
Everyone has something
to do
Or to take or to visit
to cope.
I just don't.
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