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Barry Andrew Pietrantonio
Poems
May 2016
Gifted (Imperfect Son pt. 4)
Alcohol like water,
I've been gifted with the ability to sin.
I've been waiting for snowfall,
but have been cursed with warm winds.
My room is cold and empty,
pictures on the wall, unfamiliar.
Chipped white paint, peeling and cracked,
all a blur when you're drunk.
Just one more sip from the chalice,
tongue isn't numb enough yet.
Another ******* night under cold sheets,
shivering to sleep.
And in the morning, I will rise,
a victim of the next day,
waiting for Redemption Day,
waiting for that jet black train.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Written by
Barry Andrew Pietrantonio
29/M/Salem, New Hampshire
(29/M/Salem, New Hampshire)
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