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sleep
must be something that's
awarded only to the dead
you contemplate
things like that
when it's late & you're alone again
on another
endless night
staring out the window at the
sorrowful rain
that makes it seem
like everything out there is crying
that's
when they get up & dance again
those memories buzzing in your head
like piano melodies haunting the cracked
leatherette stools of a
long-lamented
boarded up roadhouse
heartbreak that's gone
mellow over
the solitary years but still lingers
these faded
blues
so you gather up the dismal
pieces of your soul
that still remain
and you pray your silent prayers
to the broken hearted angels
that cry down the rain