Description: I know this isn't really anything all that professional but its about my alcoholic grandparents who never got over my fathers death. I can hear them as I write this.
I don't have to listen to hear he alcohol coursing through his breath.
I don't have to look to see her sway in his screaming.
The music tries to triumph over their endless pergatory.
That night replays itself in their heads like a long lost lulaby,
it follows them to their dreams.
They are haunted by the mistakes of their dead son.
The memory of a young man taken so many years ago.
Drink after beer after shot after gulp.
Drink it all away,
like it actually helps.
The trauma of their wasted years drowned in liqour and forced upon those around them.
"Woe is me!"
the sickening sounds of cursing a man dead 14 years.
The screaming of the alcohol rushing through their brains.
so much wasted time on one lost forever.
so many lives gone forever and they don't lift their heads without he glass to their lips.
Submission Name: Ranting
