Granddad lost himself in the bottle

Dad lost himself in work

I lose myself in food

It’s all addictive personalities

self-destructive blinkering

thank fuck it ends with me

 

My brother in law lost himself with a shotgun

an uncle in snow and vodka

another with high powered cars

It’s all self-loathing, all suicide

just the speed that differs

and society’s ‘tut tuts’ or outstretched arms

 

Does speed equal guts or shameless bravado

long-term death a quavering resolve?

They don’t weep any gentler

if it’s now or twenty years away

just if it’s not now

they don’t ask why

 

END

 

Thanks for reading my poetry. I’m really keen to get your feedback and to know if you liked what you read. Please leave a quick comment if you could.

Cheers, Ish