Barbara A. McCormick

(Johnston, Rhode Island)

The Brass Rail

Inside this brass rail lonely faces can be found,
With each sip, deeper sorrow is drowned,
Watch the action hear no sound,
Surrounded in a friendless surrender to the night
Cold is the soul drifting without a destiny
Feel the hurt of another forsaken heart left empty
As lips mumble words unconsciously
Visions becomes unaware of deceiving sight
As I observe people who step through these doors of corruption

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