Whiskey was
the medication
used to dull pain
When the bottle
didn't provide
answers
He shared
his agony
an attempt to
dissipate his
misery
Punishment for those
whose pain was not
the same as his
The spread of agony
simply resulted in
unseen scars
Whiskey Scars
The world
couldn't see
my sharing
the lie
Copyright (C) 2023 Penny WilsonTag: alcoholism
Treasured Scars
I was never able to hold my breath long enough to avoid the stench of you. Your slurred, dribbling nonsense turned my stomach. It was a game you enjoyed. You would watch my face to see how long it took before I became repulsed.
In your eyes it was fun; harmless.
I would watch the anger wash over you as the booze took you away. You were body-snatched, replaced by a monster. The monster hated anyone in it’s path. But the hatred was for itself most of all. The hate engulfed all and rage was the only outlet.
Penny Wilson Writes 