15. The Midnight Booth
The Midnight Booth is about being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night
by his mother and taken to a smoke-filled bar — sitting alone in a booth, a
child with school the next morning, watching her trade herself away to
strangers one glass at a time, and showing up to school the next day reeking
of smoke, hollow-eyed, and carrying what no child should ever have to carry.
By Thomas J. Allen, © 2026
Spoken Word Intro
She would wake me up in the dead of night.
I had school the next morning, but that didn't matter.
She dragged me from my bed into the cold, down to a nasty, smoke-filled bar.
I used to ask her to stop... I told her I didn't like going to these places.
And her reply to me always—and I mean always—was: "This is my life, not yours."
Even though I was subjected to her life.
I would sit alone in a booth, just a child...
Watching the woman who was supposed to be my mother,
Trade her soul to strangers, one glass at a time.
I just sat there in the horror of it all.
Verse 1
Torn from the sheets in the middle of the dark,
A child of the light dragged down to the spark.
The neon sign buzzing outside of the door,
A sticky red carpet on a purgatory floor.
I sat in the corner, a ghost in the booth,
Choking on ashes and losing my youth.
Pre-Chorus
The clinking of glass, the shadows of men,
Watching her do it again and again.
A mother in name, but a stranger in sight,
Fading away in the dirty red light.
Chorus
The smoke filled the room like a suffocating cloud!
I sat in the silence, though the music was loud!
Watching her wander from stranger to stranger,
Leaving her son in the middle of danger!
Trading her worth for a glass at the bar,
Leaving a permanent, terrifying scar!
Verse 2
I folded my wings in the dark of the seat,
Staring right down at the shoes on my feet.
Tomorrow the bell at the schoolyard would ring,
But tonight I was trapped with this terrible thing.
The laughter was hollow, the faces were grim,
She sold what was left of her spirit to him.
Bridge
No protector, no shelter, just the smell of the gin,
A front-row seat to the breaking of kin.
I wrapped myself tight in a cloak made of fear,
Praying the morning would finally appear.
The horror of knowing, the horror of sight,
The death of a mother in the middle of the night.
Chorus
The smoke filled the room like a suffocating cloud!
I sat in the silence, though the music was loud!
Watching her wander from stranger to stranger,
Leaving her son in the middle of danger!
Trading her worth for a glass at the bar,
Leaving a permanent, terrifying scar!
Outro
I smelled like cigarette smoke in the classroom the next day.
I couldn't stay awake.
I told her I didn't want to go, but she'd just say: "This is my life, not yours."
No one knew where I had been.
No one knew what I had seen from that booth.
Subjected to her life.
Just a fallen feather in the ash.