why so worried dear child?
it’s only drinking, sipping,
a little tipping by the edge,
a little message to the fledging
that you’re wedged in tight.
what’s the confusion dear child?
it’s only common bruising
from the losing in the choosing of the drink…
it’s just your piece of mind
you know she’s kind,
so what’s all this fuss about?
why so sad dear child?
it’s only lessons that you’ve learnt
just playing in the dirt,
apron strings and her skirts,
tied you to her pain.
lots to gain in the draining,
and all joint suffering
of such cauterised torture.
why so quiet dear child?
has the bottle done its job –
joined your childhood in the
robbing of you, metaphoric flogging of you…
but your blue eyes knew
even way back… that this had left
a one man ship, no crew and bereft
of child and wife,
instead a life, somewhat crippled,
as the last drops dribbled
and another opening (to secure the closing)
was always on its way.
why so raging dear child?
you haven’t reconciled?
there’s no denial, just honest fear,
it’s just the steering of the wheel for a little control
dredging from the deep emotional turmoil,
unrest no peace,
and you hang on…
and want to keep more
than you need.
flee for fuck’s sake!
discard and dump
run for the hills,
cut out the lump
it’s rancid junk
– doesn’t want you unstuck
for fear IT will be dead
and rather YOU instead
with no smiles, nor happy face
maintaining its
fear base
to always be
the starting line.
but ask yourself –
this won race is a loss every time,
so how much longer
will you let it?
and not yourself be anyone’s,
not even yours,
not even mine…
as i sit here,
in fear that
this question shall remain,
hidden in this rhyme,
with all your pain
fighting to maintain
this pitiful train,
of sorrow,
and sorrowful
affairs.