Drunk.. Again

Thu, 08/03/2017 - 10:27 -- tay3479

It's One O'Clock in the morning

I'm in my room

Woken up by the sound of shattered glass on the kitchen floor

And the sounds of my Dads' voice

He's cussing... Again

 

He's drunk... I say

.. As if that makes up for all of the times I have been woken up by his bullshit

 

I get up to put weights behind my door

Just in case he decides to yell at me for no reason...

He does that a lot

 

The next morning, every morning 

I get an apology text

Because he is not manly enough to admit that he's wrong in person

 

He blames his behavior on his drinking.

He blames his behavior on his job.

 

But was it not his choice to work there?

Was it not his choice to drink?

 

I used to feel sorry for all of the shit that my dad goes through

I don't anymore

 

"If it is not making you better, if it is not making you happy, then get rid of it."

 

My Dads' drinking hurts me...

I don't know if it has ever hurt him.

 

The same continuous bullshit happens every night

And because of this, I am forced to believe that he does not care.

 

Sometimes I do...

 

"If it is not making you better, if it is not making you happy, then get rid of it."

 

I keep thinking

And my dad keeps drinking...

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741