Treasure Island

Kathleen J. Shields

(03-05-77 / Houston, TX)

The Alcoholic


She’s a wonderful woman so full of love;
she’s a joy to be around too
But before the first drink she’s not quite that way,
like she doesn’t know what to do.

And when she is drinking there’s laughter and fun,
She’s as bright as the mid day sun
However after a while when the fluid is drunk,
It’s like playing roulette with a gun.

Her emotions at high, her sensitivity gone,
No comprehension of what she does next
And if you tell her the truth or get angry or sad,
she truly stands there perplexed

God forbid you get mad or tell her the truth,
she adamantly and forcefully objects
An alcoholic she’s not and how dare you suggest
She just can’t see the effects

When she’s out on the town, and she gets to this point,
Embarrassment’s moments away
Starting fights, saying stuff, no comprehension of pause,
things that she just shouldn’t say.

She gets kicked out of places but you can’t show disgust,
can’t tell her she screwed up or stop
Because you’re removing her fun or messing up her fine buzz,
your feelings bubble up to the top.

So you question yourself do I say something and chance,
Her being angry, not talking to you?
It’s a 50/50 risk she’ll remember the next day,
do you risk it, do you pursue?

10 years she’s been like this, and it keeps getting worse,
but she holds down a job I’ll include
First thing when she gets home and all day on the weekends,
she drinks up rather than eat food.

When she finally passes out, if the day ends without conflict,
you find yourself thankful, relieved
But this is only one day and another will come,
it’s a temporary relief indeed.

We’ve talked to her family, her mother’s no help,
they all drink like sponges and mops
They suck up the effects and are oblivious to those
who care and want them to stop.

So I find myself hoping, praying for help,
not wishing but desiring price
That not her heath take a turn but in fact if it would,
it might help her to open her eyes…

A wake up call’s needed when she won’t take the steps,
towards admittance, acknowledgement, truth
I don’t want to hurt her or loose her or worse,
But she’s far past rejuvenate youth

Until then I will pray for her mind to find clarity,
for her memory to clear up and then
For her to realize the pain she is causing all us,
to grasp responsibility within

Fore I lack the strength to take chances and speak,
I could loose so much if I say
Even though that I know that my silence does harm,
I’d rather wait to see the next day.

Submitted: Monday, September 21, 2009
Edited: Monday, September 21, 2009

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Comments about this poem (The Alcoholic by Kathleen J. Shields )

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  • Paizli Palmrose (9/21/2009 1:24:00 PM)

    I know many dear souls to whom the world looks better through the bottom of a bottle. A well written poem from the view point of those who love them. (Report) Reply

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