Cycle of Alcoholism

November 29, 2011
By Zhebari SILVER, Oshkosh, Wisconsin
Zhebari SILVER, Oshkosh, Wisconsin
5 articles 2 photos 0 comments

I am from the hidden compartment
chill with hard liquor
Unemphasized,
encompassed
by expired entrees

I am from the silence
stalking sounds
of whispered sips
As I sit still and stoic
in my convicted hatred

I am from the twang
of one tin can crashing
into another,
and another,
and another

I am from the glare;
the caring stare
of repressed screams,
of once expressed dreams
of you being better

I am from the unlit room,
soon to be unoccupied,
because I can’t,
can’t be here anymore
Lead me by example
please

I am from glass shards
dyed scarlet,
glued to a grimy floor
forever stained,
forever scattered,
forever cutting
us,
our family

I am from yesterday,
but today
my two sisters
play crazy games,
and our mother hurriedly trails
their tiny hurricane disasters
Unfamiliar,
but not unwelcome
Let’s never lose ourselves

Again


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