As Good As It Will Ever Be

greyscale photo of man looking through window

Tied Up And Down And Out

It’s late again.

I’m home again,

alone again,

and again, in these dark hours,

with a light beer in my hand,

I look around

this cold little room

in this old little house,

and I wonder,

is this all I should expect?

Is this as good as it will ever be?

To be bound here,

to a place

a role, and a person,

by duty, obligation,

and expectation?

To be tied up, or down,

together, forever,

whether or not that knot,

keeps me safely anchored,

or merely in my place?

And then I look around again,

and, in the window,

against the dark of night,

I see the weak little thing

that holds me here,

right where

I deserve to be.

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