A short, face paced poem about being the son of a person that drank themselves to death. |
-I Drink To You- by Keaton Foster Flesh Blood Love Your son Such a precious gift Refused Hating me Looking for an escape A bottle broken Empty of content Numb Forever you Mother Giver of this life Would become Never again Could you care Like the bottles You too became quite empty Somewhat pointless A figureless figurehead You showed no concern Selfish indeed Angrily I screamed Upon deaf ears All that was said fell Still to this day I continue to speak Silent words I blast Your direction is unknown Death is your god now The empty bottles remain And so has the pain Following your example Your creditable dismantling Of our life as mother and son I went and got a new bottle Filled to the very brim With fuel for a hollow soul A toxic stew meant to screw With my ability to feel How surreal it will be Such relief I will bleed Soothing my pain Release through escape I finally understand Mother of life Deeply mired in death I drink to you Because let’s face it What else could I do? I Drink To You Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012. |