The Big Boyz
They tell me that
I'm not hip
because out of the bottle,
I don't want to take a sip.
Going out to get drunk
beyond recognition,
they’re like a car
and the liquor is their fuel for ignition.
How can they do this
when it makes them down?
They live by it and in it,
their thoughts are forever drowned.
They can continue to do it
knowing that it causes pain
and takes away their joy.
I now see them all slowly
withering away, hands/hearts
still clutching their bottles
because they're known as the big boyz.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
