His Story

Alone he sat on the cold soft sand Gazing at the ocean Reflecting on his life Overcome with emotion His dad left when he was young Never to return His mother checked out slowly It was the bottle she did yearn There were no meals on the table No heating or warm clothes in a drawer Mums asleep on the couch again Empty bottles on the floor His mother gradually wasted away Her eyes became yellow and blank She no longer knew her son From all the poison she drank She died a horrible death At fourteen he was all alone No-one to turn to Nowhere to call home ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Years passed by ….now a man Sitting on the beach Tears rolled down his face As for his bottle he did reach His life had been a struggle As long as he could recall Never having being nurtured Or ever knowing love at all He tried to do it right Be a good and decent man The demons inside his head Silenced only by the bottle or can He led a solitude life Had nothing to call his own Felt helpless and lost Ostracised and alone As he sat on the beach Looking up at the stars He was angry and sobbed heavily Triggered by demons and scars The hurt he suffered was intolerable He placed his hand over his heart Fell backwards in the sand Only then did hand and bottle part! ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ He looks at her sweet young face He’s filled with loving pride As she listens to the story Snuggling closer into his side He watches his wife potter in the kitchen Glowing as again with child She glances over at him Giving a loving smile He feels complete fulfilment He now knows what it’s like to be loved To have family and be whole Present …..No longer drugged! It’s been nearly eight years since he touched the bottle Turned his life around Finally breaking that cycle So future generations Can walk on sober ground! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~