He sits alone at the kitchen table
surrounded by empty pizza boxes
and half drained bottles of beer.
An all too familiar mist comes over his eyes
and his mind begins to wander.

He takes the last pull from a bottle of bourbon
and the sounds from the stereo echo in his ears.
He wishes he could send a message in another sort of medium
since no text, no email and written or spoken words seem to suffice
and his mind continues to wander.

He wonders if one can miss what they let slip through their hands
and soon determines the harsh realization to that is a resounding yes.
And the echoes from the songs turn into echoes from the past
But he’s one of those so called tough guys and toughs guys can shed tears too,
but too often they're shed alone.

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