Pale Visitor

Listen to the piano.
A song of pain and hurt begins to play.
A dying song mesmerizes us.
People listen as they drink.

Tears roll down pink cheeks.
Is it a funeral? No, it was to be a night of entertainment,
Before the piano began its dreary song.

The pianist's fingers glide over ivory keys.
A ghost of misery.
No one can tell, no one knows.
This man has died before.

He tells his life in a wordless song.
Making people shed tears.
Something he has never done.
People cry for him, at him, for themselves, but never with him.

The song ends, and the pale visitor disappears.
In his black suit, into the black night.
Forever knowing how to make people cry.
And endless song plays a song to die by.