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.
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