Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCXXXIII
Write a short poem about waking up in drunken regret. On this one, winner is decided by likes. Make it brutal. 25 big ones on the line. Go.
A Dad No More!
Message delivery failure.
Guess you’re still blocked.
Email delivered.
A long, rum-fueled rant accidentally sent.
Photo published.
There’s the belle of the bar,
The queen of the Tuesday night scene,
The sound of your life ending.
The green text turns blue.
The messages come flying in,
Your head pounding with each vibration
As sunbeams throw daggers into your eyes.
Good morning, sunshine!
And good night to having custody,
Goodbye to your career,
Farewell to that last iota of dignity.
There’s a silver lining:
You don’t have work or custody today.
No work or kids tomorrow either,
Or the next day, or the next day.
I guess it’s time to move again.
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