In a dark, smoky corner of a forgotten bar,

Where the neon lights flicker like dying stars,

I sit alone, with a drink in hand,

A man whose life never went as planned.

My fingers trace the rim of the glass,

Each scratch a memory of a love that didn’t last,

The stale air heavy with tales of regret,

Of dreams unfulfilled and debts unpaid yet.

The bartender, she nods, knowing all too well,

The stories this man’s weary eyes could tell,

Of days spent toiling under a merciless sun,

Nights lost in shadows, nowhere to run.

My laughter, now, is a crackling radio, static and spent,

Echoing in a room where hours are bent,

Where hope is a coin tossed in a wishing well,

And fate, a dealer with nothing left to sell.

The lines on my face, a roadmap of sorrow,

Each wrinkle a path I’d tread again tomorrow,

For in this world of steel, smoke, and grime,

I’m just another soul, lost in time.

So, in the end, I raise my glass to the ghosts in the room,

To the dreams that died, the love that met its doom,

In a world that spins too fast for those who walk slow,

Im a man who’s been everywhere but has nowhere to go.