I watched him enter with a sense of dread
That fear so tangible of someone I had never met
I remembered tales told of bonfires and ditches
I remembered his loved ones, crazy bitches
I watched his eyes, that war had turned to stone
Saw their cold dark depths, with a familiar tone
He watched the balls careen towards pins
and even when I said her name he didn't flinch
He spoke soft or not at all
Like treading lightly, after the fall
I watched those eyes slide to me
I stared right back, fearfully
Lord Byron, with his eyes so dead
Into Hell and back has tread
The crowd of followers called his name
And he retreated, to play a frame |
Submission Name: Lord Byron and The Bowling Alley
