Feb 2018
Our hero, he sits, like a king on his throne.
He's surrounded by scores of people but somehow alone.
His palace is full of knights, maidens, jesters, and fools.
He sips his ale, smiles at the maidens and sits back in his stool.
For many hours he raises his glass and sets it back down.
Slowly, he realizes he's not the hero of this story but the clown.
He's surrounded by scores of people but somehow alone.
His palace is full of knights, maidens, jesters, and fools.
He sips his ale, smiles at the maidens and sits back in his stool.
For many hours he raises his glass and sets it back down.
Slowly, he realizes he's not the hero of this story but the clown.
It's about being lonely in public. I wrote this at bar, on a coaster, off the top of my head, as events unfolded before me.
