Life has hit me mercilessly
shotgun blasts to my soul
tearing out pieces of it
leaving holes that need filling
with little or no hope I push on
still reeling and out of control
I continue to smoke and drink
and think to myself that maybe
there will be an answer
in something I've wrote
therefore I write and write
in spite of my lack of ambition
just in case I find
the truth that I've been missing