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
