Wicked Bottled Demon(a poetic tale)

Wicked bottled demon (a poetic tale)

There is a wicked demon, his name is alcohol. 

He comes in many forms, has a variety of names. 

A fermented spirit, fruit, veg, malt or grain.  

He hides inside a barrel, can, glass or bottle. 

He likes to take his toll.

You are his voodoo doll.

He wants to claim and torture.

He loves to hear you ask “what’s your poison?”

Spirit, larger, beer, wine, dark or light rum?

When you think you’re being confident, sociable or cool.

He’s lied to you and laughs out loud,

Now you’re the fool, in the room or crowd.

Though their may be laughter!

Others may be laughing with you.

But likely it’s more at you.  

Then again that could be the other side of the demon. 

Aggression, paranoia, destruction and addiction,

Before you know, it’s become an affliction.

There is a Wicked demon, his name is alcohol.

He took the ones I love from me. 

From younger to more elderly.

My mother left my father. 

Knowing he liked the thrill, the demon drink did bring. 

I never really knew him. Apart from years ago.

When one day out of the blue,

he visited, for a day or two. 

In all of the excitement, I put him on a pedestal. 

Claimed he was the better parent, 

While my mother stayed forbear-ant.

Which broke her heart anew. 

I’d believed that sober act,

with more months of no contact.

I realised the truth.

The man I thought he was, I’d only fantasised. 

This left my mum in pieces, again re traumatised.

There is a wicked demon, his name is alcohol.

Way back in my 20’s, I lost my one true lover. 

It tore away my soul, seeing how he’d suffer.

I tried to help him all I could, but it was not enough. 

His mum controlled his every move.

He felt the need to prove,

worthiness of her love. 

His own decisions, didn’t please her in his life. 

Myself viewed as his drunken whore, could never be his wife. 

He needed someone sweet and innocent like his little sister. 

Their perfect angel daughter, sublime and virginal. 

Although the truth itself was really quite reversible.

She had experience beyond belief.

If only they had known! 

The things she really did with men, could have her cover blown. 

The footballers favourite supporter.

Both in and out of bed

Made my eyes water and my face turn very red. 

He was my first and only love. 

I’d laugh about the irony.

Me! his wicked drunken whore, only ever him inside me. 

What made the situation, more ironic. 

My alcohol was of minimal intake.

Known by everyone as “the lightweight.” 

I never minded being the villain, as long as he loved me back.

He still lives deep within my heart,

But we were doomed right from the start. 

For he was far to broken, giving in, daily to the vodka. 

Without, he couldn’t function, instead he had a seizure. 

Though where his mother was concerned, he’d never seemed to please her. 

His successes, nowhere near her dreams for him. 

Instead he was her failure!

She, his manipulator.

He drank to ease the pain inside. 

Her dissatisfaction, cut him deep.

Every promise he made to her, he could never keep.

So he numbed his soul from his own agony.

The truth shattered us both, in order to survive,

just to keep himself alive.

He had to give up his addiction.

To stop his liver failing. 

Or next would be the coffin, he’d be lain in.

But, his family refused to listen. 

To the specialists advice. 

They knew him better, he was much too young to die. 

The detox lasted briefly. Until they handed him a drink. 

The hard work me and him had done was wasted down the sink. 

I was only 21 and he was 24.

I couldn’t stay to watch him die.

Nor did I wish to say goodbye. 

He had to make a choice, the alcohol or me. 

Of course the demon bottle won. 

There was no more to say.

I had to set him free. 

The cost has been to live with a haunted memory. 

I never could have saved him. 

He was already lost!

My heart has turned to frost.

I was weak and left him there to die, all on his own. 

Though others saw my choice as strong.

I still viewed myself as wrong.

Never able to forgive myself. 

For leaving him to suffer. Only two won in his life. 

The demon and his mother.

There is a wicked demon, his name is alcohol.

I lost my mother to the label gin.

I wasn’t sure where to begin.

Back when my babes were small. 

I always hoped I’d get her back.

But she was on a loosing track.

She dived right into drinking.

Becoming an empty shell of herself

Taking gin down from the shelf. 

She treated it just like medication.

I struggled as I grieved the loss.

I cried for who she was.

When she gave a flicker of herself.

I held on to the dream that one day she would return. 

So I could have once more, the woman I still yearn.

But that was only brief and I grieved her loss once more.

Until I became so numb inside.

From her rollercoaster ride.

For my own protection.

In the past, I’d fight for the woman she used to be. 

Instead he’d turned her cruel, a mean, nasty bully. 

Finally I did accept, she was no longer there.  

In her place I had a beast

The mum I lost, I still did grieve.

Still here and there I saw a glimpse, of an echo of her essence. 

I learned to embrace those precious moments, to keep her in my heart.

Memories are good to have, they really play their part.

I hold on, to those happy memories and moments in our lives.

Although they’re never long enough to mend her in my soul.  

I still love her, I always will, the woman I used to know.

I keep them close and lean on them, the times she’s gone again. 

They keep me from hating her, she’s not the one to blame. 

To gin himself, it’s always been a game. 

He consumed her, with his wicked embrace. 

I love her, though I lost her a very long time ago.

My children know a different Nan, but still they love her so. 

It’s sad she never did return.

I’ll love her to her ending.

Even with, all of the mending.

I know her end is drawing near.

It’s been a gift, her in my life.

Even with all of the strife.

There is a wicked demon, his name is alcohol.

I hate him with a passion, for the evil that he is. Though occasionally, I will let myself forgive.

Allowing him to tempt me too.

I will briefly give in to him.

Enjoying, my own short lived sin.

Then again, I’ll fight the demon, when he calls to me, 

“Just take another little sip”,

No way, will I agree to that deadly trip!

I won’t let that demon take me.

He will never gain control! 

I’m determined it won’t be the thing, that brakes my children’s souls. Because he has no good to give and only loves to take.

Instead I will stay sober, for all those who gave in.  

For he cannot take me, I won’t ever let him win.

I lost my father, lover and mother to his many forms.

Alcohol is a devil causing endless misery.

I say no more torture, I want my children free.

History won’t be repeated!

so my children still have me.

To them, I refuse to be that haunted memory.

The end.