"The Life Behind the Alcoholic"posted Jan 4th 2006, 9:26PM
Mood: Inspired
Music: garbage-milk
This is just a poem i had to write for my english class. I don't really like it because there were so many rules to follow because it was an elegy and it had to be based on a personal and dramatic experience and this was the best one I had.
The Life Behind the Alcoholic
This story is true and mine.
Watching people stop to stare at this man.
Some stop to laugh.
Some might wonder how he became of this.
People point and people frown at him.
He is looked down upon by many who are not like him.
Young children stop to stare and point at him and ask their
Mother's, "Mommy why is he actin' funny".
Mother pulls child swiftly away from him.
Why is this?
Do they know this man has a family?
Do they know this man has a wife and daughter- that
This man once led a normal life away from depressants?
Who is this man behind the slurred speech and diagonal walks?
Who is this man that made me cry so many nights in a dark
State of mind?
This man is my father.
Mother saw it coming.
God why didn't I see it coming.
It came slowly, but lasted almost forever.
Restless nights of blissful melancholy was in my fortune.
The reaper of happiness took away everything pleasant
From me.
All I could hear was mother and father's screams.
They terrify me to this day.
Not knowing if someone is killing the other or spilling
The other's blood took complete control over me.
I prayed to the God I did not believe in every night
That this hell would soon end.
Yes, I was hell bound.
I heard things being thrown and things breaking.
Sometimes when I got the guts I would run to the scene
With a knife, because I thought someone hurt someone.
I don't know what I was thinking. I thought
I had lost my mind.
I had never seen or heard my father cry until then.
Seeing a parent cry in my eyes' scared me even more.
For a parent is suppose to be a support system and knowing that
That support system is weak terrified me.
He hurt me the most when he couldn't remember my name.
How could you forget your own child's name father?
For my name is your middle name!
Nothing compared to that. Not even when he tried to
Hit me with the metal end of his belt for no reason at all.
I cried myself to sleep that night.
I thought of him lower than that of dirt!
He was lower than the ants that crawl on the ground.
He was lower than the dirt that soils the earth.
But I still loved father with all my heart.
Yet hell paradise still existed in our lovely household.
He needed help and help was what mother and I tried
To give. Alcoholic's Anonymous did nothing for him.
He would be clean for a weak and start back up again.
His ability to recover became a want we could never have.
Mother had had enough.
She was ready to leave him. For six years we had dealt with
This ordeal. It was time for us to leave.
But I was not ready to leave him. I still had my hopes and dreams of
One day being able to walk home from school and not have to
Hear the other kids call my father a "drunky hunky" or an "alchey".
Of course I defended him; all the time. And I would come home to
Nothing but a drunk, who cared about nothing but himself.
I recall the time he almost killed himself and lost his job.
It seems like it was yesterday because I can remember everything.
He drunk so much alcohol that there was a really high
Percentage of alcohol in his blood that was deadly. He lost his job.
Say goodbye to all the finer things in life. Struggling to survive
Became mother's everyday goal.
I blamed him for ruining my childhood for so long.
I wouldn't let this big mistake go.
There are so many memories that are still in my head that
I try so hard not to remember.
I tried so hard as a child not to let my feelings show on the outside.
This habit has never left me. It has become a defense mechanism.
I still have so many questions to ask him.
Why did you do this to us?
Why did you make my life like living everyday in hell?
Why did I have to baby sit you every night to make sure
You didn't kill yourself.
Why do I still love you daddy?
He got better over time. I had never been so proud of him.
Mother and I stayed. Inside of my soul I leaped for joy.
At first I was doubtful about his recovery, but he has been sober
For almost 2 years. This experience has challenged me mentally
And has mad me, as well as my father, a stronger person. A goal has
Been accomplished.
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