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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Adult · #1888132
A short, face paced poem about being the son of a person that drank themselves to death.

-I Drink To You-
by
Keaton Foster

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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.

© Copyright 2012 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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