The Twilight Tavern

Twilight is transition

Of night and day.

At the Twilight Tavern

The patrons come to play.

They all have their baggage

And need to have their say.

There's something in the drinks

That melts them all away.

The suicide king

Solemnly sits in his chair,

Sword on his lap

And blood in his hair.

He says, I'll tell you a secret

Although we've just met:

Things aren't what they seem;

My prison is my palace,

My castle is my cage.

In the twilight

The players see their roles.

They can try to break the cycle

Or stay inside their holes.

The whore's daughter

Full of virtue and grace,

But I see another story

By the lines on her face.

She says to me from the stairs,

I'm cleaning house and there's

Just two types of people:

If they're not part of my solution,

They are part of my problem.

In the twilight

The players question parts;

Try not to be bound by them,

But then the show always starts.

The wild woodsman

With thick arms and steely eyes.

You'd never guess,

In bed at night he cries.

Says, I've thought hard and long,

I know where it all went wrong.

The key is the timing;

If you don't fish when they're biting,

You might be hungry when they're not.

In the twilight

The players read the script.

In a moment of clarity,

They can leave the pages ripped.

The elegant heiress

Stands in her perpetual gloom.

She's always the victim,

But her problems are the envy of the room,

She says she longs for a man

With some kind of master plan,

But after all these years I've realized

That true love is my El Dorado,

In which my salvation doesn't lie.

So then I stepped outside

For a breath of fresh air,

Lit up a smoke

And began to stare

Up into the night.

I said to the dark blue,

I need some guidance,

What am I to do?

And she answered me:

Pick a star and follow it...