Who’s that knocking on my front door?
So rapid. So hasty. Shaking the floor.
I peeked through the window hole.
To my surprise, there was no soul.
I rubbed my eyes and looked twice.
Ah man! Alcoholism–a hideous vice.
Illusions. Nightmares. Pain and anxiety.
Drinking the bottle doesn’t make you free.
It enslaves you to a whirlwind disease.
Weeping tears into endless seas.
When I am sober I will wait by the door
Hoping and praying a knock once more.
Opening the door to see hope stop in
Grabbing my hand, never looking back again.
Chad A. Damitz