Lifes a Battle

poem by: Greg Woods
Written on Dec 30, 2013

He raised his head from the sweat stained pillow,
the spittle hung from his chin.
He doesn't really feel like it,
but another day was about to begin.

He felt blessed to be able to leave that bed,
full of odours, sweat and grime.
To splash some water over his head,
it's early opener time!

So down he goes for his bottle of wine,
and dreams of hot baths from the past.
Also in dreams, on roast beef he dines,
and guzzles on the bottle at last.

Many such dreams float by him in a day.
As he guzzles and he laughs,
and he cries by the way.

And then again he finds that bed,
that wonderful, beautiful bed.
For this is how it seems by now,
in the dreams that flood his head.

By night he doesn't dream,
for his dreams are all by day.
Sleeping is his only reality,
when the dreams all go away.

When his body should be resting,
it's fighting for its life.
trying to separate toxins from food,
to keep itself alive.

Emergencies and breakdowns ,
all through the night.
As cells race to and fro,
never giving up the fight.

They only have till morning,
when he again raises his head.
They know as he takes his first guzzle,
more of them will be dead.  


Tags: sad, encouraging, pain, hope,

Add Comment

Peter Duggan commented:
A good write you have penned here Greg. It is so sad to see so many get lost through the booze. Nicely written....peter
Ari J commented:
like this!


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