Poor Tina with Tears in Her Eyes
I once met a girl down in London,
Who told me the tale of her life,
I could see she was kind and she was clever,
But she held so much sadness inside.
We spoke from midnight until sunrise,
In the corner of an unknown, unnamed bar,
Sinking perpetual raspberry mojitos,
To the sound of a faded guitar.
She had married a man named Harry,
Seven years ago to the day,
But quickly their love had turned sour,
And together we counted the ways.
Harry was cruel, and he beat her,
For all those years she endured the pain,
She longed for the days when he had loved her,
Not realising things could never be the same.
Then one day she learned of his other lover,
And knowing there were probably more,
She packed a bag with what possessions she had,
And never to come back, headed straight for the door.
One week later we sat there together,
And out poured this story, along with her tears,
She had nothing and nobody to cling to,
Save a suitcase of old hopes and fears.
When the sun broke through the window that morning,
She stood up and said goodbye,
She had to catch a train to nowhere in particular,
And as she turned, the sun lit up her black eye.
I never saw Tina again after that night,
A thought which makes me so sad,
We knew one another only a few hours,
But she was the best friend I ever had.
I often wonder what became of her,
Poor Tina with tears in her eyes,
I hope she survived the pain and the heartache,
I hope there’s someone there for her when she cries.
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