Long Live The Fighters

There he be, the man at the end of the bar,

Never fear friends, he doesn't often travel to far,

His story a mystery that has yet to be shared,

A tale of tough calls and battles won, poorly the bad guys faired.

He crawls in to the pub when ever he is around,

Occasionally speaking, only sharing a wisdom that's profound,

Most days he sits there, lost in deep and sullen thought,

The fellow alone, for most knew him naught.

In his eyes the tales do sing,

His face shows of a life that has felt karma's sting,

Something is missing in him, he's a fallen man,

Lost is his soul, to get it back, nobody can.

He watches the door with each ringing of the bell,

Turning back to his drink, succumbing to his own private hell,

But not a tear does fall from the man on the corner stool,

Yet, to underestimate him would be to act the fool.

For the old sullen types have seen much strife,

They hauntingly remember those fallen at their hand, each taken life,

The wars never end with these types of men,

It came home with them, we just know not from where or from when.

Another round he beckons, with a tap of his finger,

His eyes change focus when he hears the door ringer,

Each person is watched for their true intent,

He can tell you about each one, from where they came and then went.

Sorry for the old boy, it's hard not to feel,

No hero should be forgotten, nor their stories so real,

Saved everyone he could, he seems that type of guy,

The ones that keep going back for more, not fearing they'd die.

The man deserves better than what he does have, for this is no life,

Not for a reward, but to make the world safe for you and your wife,

No thank you is sought from the warriors of old,

They did what needed done, never coming out of the cold.

To sit there three nights a week, there must be something than being alone,

He sips on his whiskey, that stool his old throne,

Tortured and jaded by the enemies of old,

None live a life like this, there's none left that are so bold.

It's last call and he orders just one last libation,

He tips well and slams it, he'd stayed the duration,

Then he did not return to the corner of the bar,

He finally got his rest, a bullet struck him before making it too far.