The last beer drunk
and the night is young.
Yet,
I feel, so old.
Weary,
too tired
to laugh
or cry
or howl
from the balcony.
This soul in drought
too many tears
shed
over lost lovers,
fear,
cowardice,
the world.
How terrifying it is
to be spent.
So now,
I find respite
in the mercy
of mortality