DRUNKARD

Beer bubbles float on putrid breath,

                   Eyes dark as if feeling the touch of death.

                   Staggering on unsteady feet,

                   Feeling the grasp of the Devil’s heat.

                   Worthless life, concealed crying,

                   Heart and brain deprived, dying.

                   His children, not a care,

                   Wanting beer bottles filling his lair.

                   Wearing the false smile of beer,

                   But sweating from unknown fear.

                   Then gladly he was dead,

                   From a stroke, in his bed.

                   Never to be missed as important,

                   Just remembered for fatherly impotence.

                   His twisted, black odiferous cigar,

                   Looking like a turd from near or far.

                   Tells drinking buddies his son is a pain,

                   Son hears, feels punch to the brain.

                   From bar to bar all around town,

                   Wide smile from a drunken clown.

                   Son remembers, feels pain and shame,

                   Then vows never to be the same.