2004 Poetry - Family Drunk
She was fine when I saw her last.
Her usual self, alcohol on her breath.
I just stood there as she went past.
Next I heard my mother was dead.
Not that I cared or anything,
She just didn't listen to me, like she always does.
When I got the call early that morning,
I knew exactly where my opinion was.
Mom was drunk, why should I care?
It's her mistake, I feel no remorse.
No it might not be fair,
But I shall let stupidity run its course.
The funeral was sweet and sickening.
Oh how I wish I could've stayed home.
So many family members gathering and bickering,
It was enough to make me moan.
Who would want to remember her?
The abusive whore that she was once.
Only the stupid choose not to confer,
Thus she's the drunk; the dunce.
Written: October 15th, 2004
Dedication: Debra Klocek
Her usual self, alcohol on her breath.
I just stood there as she went past.
Next I heard my mother was dead.
Not that I cared or anything,
She just didn't listen to me, like she always does.
When I got the call early that morning,
I knew exactly where my opinion was.
Mom was drunk, why should I care?
It's her mistake, I feel no remorse.
No it might not be fair,
But I shall let stupidity run its course.
The funeral was sweet and sickening.
Oh how I wish I could've stayed home.
So many family members gathering and bickering,
It was enough to make me moan.
Who would want to remember her?
The abusive whore that she was once.
Only the stupid choose not to confer,
Thus she's the drunk; the dunce.
Written: October 15th, 2004
Dedication: Debra Klocek