Wednesday, 9 July 2008

Posion - a revised version of The Stranger poem under the title For Those Who Know Alcoholics

Poison

The stab of the screw causes the cork to jettison with a pop.
The crystal ring and slosh as the poison is poured into the glass.
For one more. One more sip, mouthful, glass, entire bottle. It’s never enough.
The poison makes his heart, mind, and eyes blind to what he’s losing. What he’s become.
It has burnt his heart dry, making it as empty, hollow and black as each bottle he drains.
He is oblivious to the pleading looks of his children, the tears in his wife’s eyes,
All hoping, praying, wishing, waiting,
For him to change.
To be the father that used to laugh, his eyes once filled with happiness.
To be the husband that used to smile, a heart once filled with love.
He was once all this but the poison has made him nothing more than a live-in stranger.
His former self leaves them contained in the endless empty bottles they put out to recycle

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