Before addiction

Listen to the sound of the trees,
They mimic like a child,
The wind like there mother
the sway like there father,
I hear them cry,
Sobbing over late night coffee,
In a panic,
Were could our baby be,
Teardrops or Raindrops,
Samething anyway,
The pitter patter as her first steps grace the world,
the same as the thunderstorms,
Raging through her teen years,
Angsty and defiant,
A wallflower grows into a strangling vine,
Soaking in alcoholism,
sending it back to the atmosphere,
Like someone’s last breath,
Addiction dusting her parents,
Causing pain and spite,
To take over there minds,
I breathe in the smell of past and previous times,
Where the giddy young girl,
Hadn’t picked up the bottle,
She sipped on purpose and love,
Imbibing on potential
shadows and auras and specters her friends,
Partying with her as she loses reality.


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