Uncle Robert

June 26, 2011
I don't know the extent of your sickness
Your addiction
All I hear is tidbits
Of the hush hush
Around the house
Are common words
Too common
He hasn't eaten for days
He needs help
Are familiar too
Too familiar
You're like a ghost in the house
A four letter word
They think I don't know
To an extent I don't
I'm scared to know how bad it really is
I remember being with you
The good times
Rare now
Since your door is closed
And locked
With a note taped on it
Stating that you're sick
But you are not gonna get help
And that if someone doesn't like that
Tough luck
Well guess what
I don't like it
I know you need help
Everyone who whispers knows you do
You know you do
Yet you're hiding
From your addiction
From the whispers
From the truth
As I listen
And stare at the note
On your door
All I can think is
Get better 
For me
And I can almost hear your voice in the back of my head
Tough luck

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