How easy to be the drunk
Eking out each day with coins
Shuffling towards another oblivion
With each waking stride.
How easy and forgotten
The long days of alcohol
Drank like a dying man with water
How easy the days
Spent doubled in pain
Vomiting nothing
But the pure torture
Of your condition.
How easy and sad
Begging at street corners
For the same coins
That last only a second
The endless walk
Of the drunk
As he staggers home
Night after lost night
Muttering dissatisfactory
Soliloquies
To the sombre moon
Diluted by spent eyes
How easy
To wake and have a conviction
On how to spend your day
While we soldiers of discipline
Work like animals for survival.
How easy.
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