By D. R. DiFrancesco
Crass and cranky,
Scarcely a kind word to anyone,
Including himself,
Bitter and hateful,
Blaming everyone for his shortcomings,
Except for himself,
The family,
The job,
Restraining him from achieving success.
Never without a glass,
Always a glass of amber in hand,
Served to enhance his misery.
Another drink,
“I’ll have just one more”, he would say,
The one we called Jekyll and Hyde.
The children loved him,
But children didn’t like him,
Too scared and too young to confront.
A wife living for better or worse,,
Traumatized into silence,
Who would he be when he came home at night?
A frustrated virtuoso,
Sculpture, oils, watercolors, pastels,
So much talent needlessly thrown away.
On a stormy day all was lost,
His family, his art and his life,
Sadness in a bottle his solitary friend.
Did the Lord,
Or did his demons call him home,
A mystery until we join our maker,
Destructive and demoralizing,
Living under bourbons shadow,
Souls touched that will never be healed.
Dom DiFrancesco 
the inability to heal…that’s it, right there. Thank you for writing this.
You are very welcome. This one hit home with my family some time ago and I certainly know that I am not the only one. Thank you for taking the time to read it. :)
Two things come to mind here: PTSD, the alienation of the returned soldier (which has come up in our comments to each other). And I also think of a haunting song by Bill Withers called “Better Off Dead.” It hits many of the same things.
This is a chilling poem indeed.
Thank you Jeremy, I’m glad that it you liked it and I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment on it.
This is a very powerful poem in its sadness. What is worse than death is when someone gives up hope for healing. This was really haunting.
Thank you so much for reading my poem and taking the time to comment on it. I truly appreciate it.