Fragments of the world appear in a blur
Alcohol seeps out of every sweaty pore
Something screams, oh, its just my child
Pour another drink and swallow the bile
To do this once would be a bad dream
Twice, a habit, and again, routine
Every day, waking to the thunderous pulse
Of the blood in my head and the vomit erupts
Every night, passing out, bottle in hand
The baby neglected, screams in demand
Too much pressure to be everything, everywhere
I take another drink and the world disappears
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice poem, it reflects on reality