I walked into the dark cafe,
or was it bar?
thick with smoke, blood and confidence,
you could only see so far,
but I could see angst looking at their glass,
and nostalgia was dazed,
stuck thinking aboot yesterdays,
forever searching through a maze,
with no exit,
sadness is sitting with anxiety,
in between silences they talk aboot society,
while happiness tells me to smile,
with a certain style,
I tell them I need a beer,
or was it a coffee?
I do smile.
Anger comes up and tries to start a fight,
but redemption feeling the need to do right,
breaks it up,
To much noise and a black eye,
I say with a smiling sigh,
Time to write.
How I feel when I write. I also think the title is kinda wonky