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A Man and His Drink

posted Jan 26, 2013, 7:24 PM by Stacey Thompson   [ updated Jan 26, 2013, 7:24 PM by Michael Wood ]
It was a match made in heaven, a man and his drink.  
Thought the gentlemen in the bar, as though they could think.  
For years upon years there was such a man, 
who believed in escaping, as his only plan.  
He sunk deeper and deeper, and no one seemed to mind.  
For this man, he was, one of a kind.  
They built this man up, stronger than steel.  
Taught him they ways to escape what he feels.  
Tears serve no purpose when your fighting for your life.  
Thinking about your family and missing your wife.  
Where your in the final moment that it's him or it's you, 
there's no doubt what this man will ultimately do.  

But what happens next is where the story begins, 
when he reflects on his life and admits all his sins.  
What happens in this room when the man stops the fighting 
and he comes to terms with what he's been hiding.  
When the bottle becomes his only escape, 
the man looks away, consumed by the hate.  
Enraged by the thoughts that run through his head, 
as he lay there at night alone in his bed.  
Remembering the war and reliving the violence, 
laying there drunk, vulnerable from the silence.  
This man did not ask for these memories to stay, 
he fought in a war that did not go away.  
He's been miles from home but now that he's here, 
isn't he safe from the terror and fear?

But what happens if this man slowly loses his way.  
And with everything thats been said, he's got nothing to say.  
What happens to this man when he turns away from the cup. 
And proudly proclaims that he's had enough.  
What do I do when I feel all his pain, 
when  I finally recognize that he lives with such shame.  
He felt guilty tonight because he wanted to drink, 
and it's all that his brain, wanted him to think.  
But what he doesn't see from the outside looking in, 
is that this is where the strength can really begin.  
Taking control of another is easy to do, 
but how much control can you have over you? 
This my friend was the very first stride, 
now hold on tight as you go for a ride.  
Down memory lane where nothing has changed 
but you get to write on the script of this page.  
It was a match made in hell that man and his drink.  
Or so you have thought, or so you now think.  

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