There is More to Drinking Than Hangovers

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this poem from the viewpoint of a child who lost her/his parents to an accident involving a drunk.

I would say 'enjoy', but. . .

Submitted: June 23, 2008

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Submitted: June 23, 2008



Miserable, helpless, shocked, hating
Nothing. I feel nothing.
So much emotion, I’m numb.
Feeling nothing.
I got the news that they did not survive
Red with hate; hate-red.
Feeling hatred for alcohol, for guns,
For worthless doctors.
Feeling nothing,
I ran barefoot into the cold.
How is an orphan supposed to survive?
The frozen lake beckoned to me
An icy bridge away from this empty world.
I grabbed what I loved most after my parents.
Shoved my feet into them
No time to tie the laces.
And I stumbled through the snow in my ice skates.
Reached the lake, stepped onto the ice.
For a moment, sensation rushed back to me
Memories of audiences
Silver blades flashing
And two smiling faces, my parents cheering.

All feeling gone.
I feel nothing.

I hopped
And hopped and jumped and stomped
Finally, a crack.
Hop, jump, stomp.
Crack, crack, crack.
Into the water
Surprise, it’s not cold.
I feel nothing.
I’m already half way across the bridge
From the world of emotions to the next
To join my parents.
Just wishing I could bring him with me.
The drunk man who shot them
He deserves this bridge more than I do.
So bitter, so unfeeling, I reach the end.

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