Poem – The Tin Whistle – On the surface he seems content, but what is the truth about this popular musician

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The Tin Whistle

Our Pied Piper the aging star

In Ecstasy. On cloud nine

Swinging leather hips

weave hypnotic spells

of contentment over

unbelievable winter gloom

As a child he dreams of

space the final frontier

But even there he knows

It’s too good to be true

Invisible shadows cast

from the enemy within

Somewhere between darkness

And bright stage lights

He still journeys through the space

Between anger and depression

Warp speed to oblivion

The final days of the human race

Whistling to the end of time


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