Another
Another
Another one is gone. A friend, family, a piece of my life and the fabric of the world; gone to where? They are dead before the time. Another one murdered by the party life. What is wrong with us? We give everything just to escape, and have that buzz. Just to feel good, and have adventure, and someone to love.
We throw away family and friends, and reputation. We surrender dreams, and hopes and futures. We destroy our bodies and our lives, and each other, for what? I’m tired of burying friends and family who drink themselves to death. Who OD, who are murdered, who die in wrecks, and kill themselves. And those who die while they still breathe.
I’m tired of standing over the caskets of those I have known. Those I have seen alive and loved. I’m tired of funeral homes full of people who go to the bar, after the grave is closed. They live that lie of the party that never ends. And look for the hordes of headbangers in hell, at the eternal beerfest. But, nothing that causes the pain and ruin that addiction brings can be good.
We are brothers and sisters. We have walked the same miles. We have bled and puked, and cried, and peed on the same floors. But, please not another one. Please just slow down, if nothing else. Grow old with me. It’s boring, and goes by fast, but we have grandkids to watch. That is, if we haven’t driven them away along with our kids, and our lovers. But, grow old with me. I don’t want to stand over another closed casket, with your name in my heart.
Copyright © Christopher Bunton | Year Posted 2019
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