Bar = Prison

The lighting in the bar is,
Darker than the street.
People hide their faces,
As they shuffle their feet.

The drinks blur their vision,
Tell them lies about reality.
Until they wake up in prison.
Just for playing the game.

The prison of the head,
Is full of inmates, yet no guards.
You’d much sooner be dead,
Then feel the rattle of your cell.

As if you have an option.
The warden is not your mind but your tongue.
Between water and whiskey, you choose toxin.
By now, it’s habit.

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3 thoughts on “Bar = Prison

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