Unrelenting
Always tempting
Never at ease
A hereditary disease
When pickled in alcohol
I feel at home
Like a bird in the trees
Bad skin
No healthy glow
Check my reflection
The whites of my eyes are now yellow
Bloated abdomen
Itchy flaky skin
Does this sound fun?
I picked a fight with the devil..
Guess who won
I might seem vibrant
But inside I'm black
A living
Walking
Breathing
Heart attack
I might seem healthy
But I'm ill at ease
An inviting host
For a cancerous disease
Drying out for the umpteenth time
Trying to break the curse
Counting down the days
I hope my stomach ulcer doesn't burst
Sobriety is a daunting task
Death may be near
But I do not fear
My loved ones suffering is minimal
Is all that I ask
A prisoner of my own experience
Strength I lack
I stare at death
And death stares back
Uncomfortable reading
But the truth hurts
Can't quench the unquenchable...
Thirst
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Author:
Syd (
Offline) - Published: January 5th, 2018 11:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
Offline)
Comments5
Yes I agree. I'm not in such a bad way as make out in the poem though, but I'm definitely doing dry January. I've been overindulging for about the last three months.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback - Syd
An honest, raw, eye-opening account! Well written too!
Having grown up with an alcoholic father and drinking more than I should sometimes myself, I know where you are coming from.
Hi Fred, yes I grew up in similar circumstances. It definitely runs in the family.
Thanks for reading - Syd
These meaningful words resonate with an addict, I’m sure!
“My loved ones suffering
is minimal Is all that I ask”...
Honest and Well written, Syd!
I volunteer at a rehab center, and I hear your written words spoken many times! I wish you all the best for your “dry January”!
~Laura~
That's such a nice thing to do, voluntary work at a rehab centre.
I'll be fine. Thanks for reading and your kind words - Syd
hi syd , this is a good and strong piece of writing 🙂 i can only try and imagine having an addiction which we cannot escape from .. having control can feel hard, can't it , once we are addicted , how do we get out , with help , i think that is the answer, with help... '' prisoner of your own experience '' a sad thing to be trapped with something you want to escape from . '' i feel at home like a bird in the tree's '' i love this line , interesting how you have compared addiction to a bird in the tree, i think to be honest with you , tree's are a birds '' home '' and maybe for those who are addicted , they are comfortable in this place and scared to move away , scared to move away from the place which they are used to .. a good piece of writing
Hi Charlotte, again you've hit the nail on the head with your interpretation of the poem. Yes addiction is horrible thing, I have more of a dependancy, I'm doing well though as I've hardly had a drink since new year. I'll have a read of your poems later after I finish work. Thanks for stopping by - Syd
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