Rain taps on the window
of another chilly evening
But it cannot wash away the internal demons
that threaten to consume me
Loneliness, depression, futility
vie for my attention
Like impetuous children
who refuse to slumber
Oh, that these “children” would
leave home and forget their place of birth!
They are bastards who curse
the very thought of their ancestors
Alcohol numbs festering wounds,
but it’s a band-aid on cancer
Even death holds no promise of respite,
being merely a door into eternity.
thiscowboycantsing 