Normal For Me

His eyes untrusting brown Brows furrowed in permanent frown Skin weathered From the ground he tendered And the whiskey goes down. His unruly dark hair Living a life he can’t bare Heart hardened Like the soil he pounded And the whiskey goes down. His tanned arms Strength running the farms Frustration heated From the fire he beat And the whiskey goes down. Papa I cry And from that name he does shy He does not look His shoulders merely shook As the bottle hides beneath the tree He doesn’t seem to see This is normal for me And the whiskey goes down.