For the words spilt,
so sharp,
You forked your tongue

Breath heavy with liquor,
And self-inflicted misery

Tremulous limbs,
Stilted walk

Running, stumbling, falling,
Splitting skin on solid concrete
What haunted your sober thoughts?

Two wives, six children and a lifetime
And no one ever knew you
Not your siblings
Not even your mother,
who searched for you decades after being told you were dead,
who cared for you until her last conscious thought

Living without living
Contemplating the world through hazy eyes

What is there to feel, but pity?
For the man who never learned from his mistakes,
Turning to the bottle to forget his woes
To forget his loneliness
Never realizing that the bottle caused him more woes
And left him alone