Poison

So, you have a drink here and there
As hard as you work, it's only fair
Then, why do you shake when you run out
Was it a lie, or are you in doubt?

Your nose is red, your eyes are yellow
Fueled by rage from your liquid mellow
Your children evade, your wife denies
You're too blind to see your own demise

Your liquid courage has brought you fear
Now you accuse those who loved you dear
Now you sit alone inside your den
Empty chairs where your friends had once been

Your bottled pride hath made the mighty fall
What you wouldn't do for just a phone call
Your family photos haunt you always
As you stagger down your own hallways

Your liquid joy has brought you despair
And you have driven away those who care
With that poison upon your breath
You blurr the line between life and death

For you walk as though you are alive
But live as though your life was deprived
You know you should stop, you know I'm right
Yet you open one more to start the night

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like how you define the problem of drinking.
"For you walk as though you are alive
But live as though your life was deprived
You know you should stop, you know I'm right
Yet you open one more to start the night"
The above is true for many. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Jesse Booker]

Thank you very much!

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome.

[T.S. Claus]

This was impressive. Really definitive if that makes sense, haha. And the rhyming flowed really well. I stink at rhyming. Good job!

[hardeep sabharwal]

I have seen so many person who are chain drinker including one of my Uncle who died a few years ago and the family struggled hard after his death,, addiction to anything ruins our life, exceed of anything is bad
a good work here to read, good job mate

[Jesse Booker]

Thank you! I'm sorry about your uncle.

[AprilRN1210]

I know all too well the depths of despair that addiction can bring upon loved ones having lived through watching my father drink away the pain driving away everyone who cared.. it was an escape that slowly became a prison of its own... you have expressed this well here my friend.. reads easily, hits hard-that takes skill...

[Jesse Booker]

Thanks! I'm sorry you had to go through that. Unfortunately, it was my father as well who I wrote the poem about.