I'm a barman.
I can understand Lincoln's pain.
A form of envy
for the actor
who walks on
at just the right time
with some form of
self-confidence regained,
a new sense of purpose.
Instead of the continual
I wouldn't quite call it heartbreak
with which to proceed forward,
moral certainty, even if you can,
not much a source of satisfaction.
A sense of private defeat
one is too polite to share.
But that the whole race
shares
in it
knowingly or not.