Part of me will always stand there
In that room drowning in night,
Flickering tv casting
Dim light on someone, something,
Part of me will always question
Which life you finally chose
That New Year’s Eve two years ago,
Too weak to leave that arm chair,
Your deathbed.
Encumbered by fat and alone,
Glass of alcohol bottles
Reflecting your sad visage like
Those circus mirrors we broke,
Back when we weren’t afraid of
Remembering times when you
Were my dad and I was your son,
But we were wrong even then,
In my mind I will always ask
Myself about that last night,
Before you rotted away for
Two weeks until you were found,
Only because of the putrid stench.
Part of me resigns to never
Know if you abstained at last,
Or glass in hand you gave in and
Thought “what’s the harm in one more?”
About the Creator
Johnny O'Neill
I'm just a dabbler in words who likes to be heard.
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