Bitter

You sound like someone who’s heard too many “life’s not fairs”

From someone who should have at least shared in your cares

Even if unable to produce a single one of those empathetic stares

They could have managed a few sympathetic there theres

Funny how we all grow into our mom and dad

Being one or both in moments that are good or bad

So, bitterly we shoot our love when we feel mad

Then like children run away rather than face their sad

It’s not a competition to decide whose life most stinks

Though this one feels it is best only when he drinks

Otherwise, he can’t stop thinking of those fucking finks

So, he drinks until he blinks the first of forty winks

But sometimes forty winks will turn into a hundred

The days easily lost but not to the pounding in his head

The days easily lost to this, his unshakeable dread

Dread that every day he’ll go on wishing he was dead