Man On a Bench
The haze falls again
Slowly caresses my brain
Aching
Suspended on wood
I know that I should
Be waking
On four legs does it stand
Supporting a man,
Who is quaking
The drink makes me sick
My thoughts, I’m not quick
In making
The wood of the bench
I grasp and clench
To stop shaking
Alone in my coat
Stomach starts to bloat
The hunger, faking
The Black night descends
And I make amends
Copyright © The Red Rain | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment