Probing the Psyche

Inside my heart a dark spirit dwells. I have been through tribulation and hell. It is over and the judgment is in. I can still taste the cutting tang of gin. My meandering spirit has been shut down. (I fear my jury thinks me a sad clown.) I reckoned the road was a good time friend, Aimlessly I sought what I thought I'd find. I found optimistic small town people, Cynical and despondent city dwellers. With each fork in the road would I find me? One of the darkest places in the world, Is inside your mind as you try to fit in. Here, right in this place is where I belong, Good-time Charlie's and bad-time Charlene's, Soon had me on the road strangling on dust. My train of thought brought me to where I am, Like an old rusty freight train chugged to a stop. The towns I had visited by on my way, I never felt welcome for I had been wrong. All the people I met, men and women, Tried to love what I was but I knew not love. The miles I walked, taking this and that turn, Anxiously awaiting until I found . . . myself. Suddenly I was struck with the thought so rare, That what I was chasing was already there. I wait for the verdict to be read now. Maybe I can smoke, if they will allow. The old greybeard looks my way and declares, You must go back to earth, your life repair. My prayers are answered I know what to do, Correct my sins for my new life's debut.