Alcoholic women

Alcoholic women

Alcoholic women with no pride,
That is what you call them as they stumble by,
You see the bottle inside their hand,
But never stop to understand.

You see their clothes, you see their face,
You see a woman fallen from grace,
You whisper words as they walk past,
But you know nothing of their past.

Maybe she once had everything,
A home, a love, a wedding ring,
Maybe somebody broke her heart,
And that was where the drinking starts.

Maybe she buried someone she loved,
And screamed her questions to God above,
Maybe the silence inside her home,
Became too much to face alone.

Alcoholic women with no pride,
You say those words from the other side,
But pride can drown beneath despair,
When nobody notices you are there.

She knows the looks, she knows the shame,
She hears you whispering her name,
She knows tomorrow she will swear,
Never another drink, I swear.

Then morning comes with shaking hands,
And promises nobody understands,
The bottle calls, she gives it in,
And hates herself for drinking again.

Do not mistake her broken way,
For someone who was born this way,
There might be years behind those eyes,
Of hidden pain and silent cries.

She might have children who walked away,
Who still remember a better day,
When Mum was laughing, Mum was strong,
Before the drink came rolling along.

Alcoholic women with no pride,
Perhaps their pride is trapped inside,
Perhaps beneath that battered soul,
There is still a woman wanting to be whole.

So when you see her passing through,
Remember she was someone too,
And somewhere underneath her pain,
She might be trying to live again.