Talking To Myself

You’re a drunk
and an embarrassment
you can’t be trusted
to hold your tongue

And when you think
you have an audience
you let rip
and have some fun

You’re the life
of every party

(where there’s wine
and beer galore)

but then you wake
with vivid flashbacks
of what you did
the night before

So take a good look
in the mirror

(with blood shot eyes)

remember when?

just last week
you made a promise

you would never drink again!

And here you are
looking for tablets
stomach churning
-aching head

will they call you
up this arvo
and remind you
of what you said

I’m a mother
and a daughter
I’m a friend
and I’m a wife

but when there’s booze
and gypsy music
I can’t help
but drink in life

Back to bed
with lots of water
hope my neighbours
don’t make noise

there’s a party
here next weekend

Will I drink?

Like one of the boys!

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5 thoughts on “Talking To Myself

  1. Awesome poem. You just have to love Gypsy music! Thanks for the like. You have a new follow. I’ve written one you might like also, “It’s all about Him.” Bob

    Like

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