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Once again the bottle runs dry. It's last
bitter-sweet drops tickle his calloused,
pale colored lips.
Once inside it begins to burn.
The scent so sweet with a bitter
after smell fills the room with each breath
he releases.
It was something pathetic inside the man
that turned to the bottle.
It was trying to replace the sorrow in his
life. It is this weakness that is replaced by
something like a demon.
He is no longer human, it's in his very
soul that the devil thrives.
Once again it is those who care that hurt.
The people that he hides from because
his past has made him afraid to love.
His eyes are red with anger and every move
including the words he speaks are slurred
with hate.
It is jack that lives in the father I've never
been allowed to know.
It's a harsh brown liquid that burns his throat,
drowns his pain, hides his past, tortures my
present.
I look at the deep brown glass and I see
his life. I run my fingers across it's smooth
surface.
I let goe and watch it break, with in my life
there is an emptiness that this memory
will replace.
Each tiny shiver of broken glass is like a
memory of him tearing me up from the
inside out.
What was inside the bottle was all that
mattered to him.
The bottle reminded me so much of his life
that I begin to weep.
All that I can do about my father is let go
and watch him break.
With this realization I know longer feel sorry
for myself.
It's my mothers life that is a real mess.
It's the man she losr that she still loves,
the man I will never know.
It is for this very reason that my heart aches.
It's for my mother who doesn't have it in her
heart, that this man alone, my father I vow to forever hate.