He wakes, he’s late
For work in the morning
Forgot to set the alarm
He kept on snoring
Arms dangle
Stumbling drunk, He scrambles
Catches his reflection in the mirror
All he sees is an asshole
He lingers, bewildered
At what became of his figure
He begins to shave
Knowing the reactions he’ll encounter
The stares, the voices that’ll say
He’s a thug, he’s a fiend
A drug addict, a shattered dream
A brain splattered, hands covered in insanity
A walking tragedy
He should have had kids, started a family
He’s one with gravity
Always falling off
He’s wasted talent, absent, he’s lost
He’s drifting off
A floating log down a river
Waiting to get flushed down
He’s a crumbling pillar
Drowning in whiskey, Coors light and other liquors
His list of abilities is getting smaller
His belly is getting bigger
His head is swollen
His heart is always open
But his spirit is broken
And his confidence is choking
His intentions eroded
His appearance is horrid
Looks like a hurricane hit
Between his feet and his forehead
He’s morbid, prefers the company of corpses
Walks around like he’s dragging a sore leg
When he eats he gorges, not sharing the bread
Doesn’t have a bed
Sleeps on a couch instead
Dead inside, he’s a hallow shell
Just waiting for the end, He’s going to hell
Splashes water in his face
Spits out the fluoride
Screams in the mirror
Can’t keep doing this
Got to have more pride
Got to find a balance
Got to tame the madness
Eliminate the sadness
Got to find the strength inside
And reawake this hope alive
Got to find the drive to keep on living
Got to jumpstart this heart
And hope to be forgiven
Come to terms with the now
And build towards a later
Got to pull myself together
Got to be my own savior
BY OSCAR TORRES LEON
Leave a Reply