Sanity pours over drunken souls,
and secrets come out.
Rings of smoke rise like wildfire,
and the high of addiction,
amidst momentary digressions,
finally comes around,
to violent assertions.
Day after day,
keen curiosity withers.
New ways, naive inventions and novel thoughts,
They rot in the deep faulting lines,
of the greyish matter that was once proclaimed.
And excuses abound,
neglecting implications profound.
Year after year,
in resolutions are found,
semi determined will to make the body healthy and sound.
But agreeing upon sworn in promises,
of one last peg,
the ultimate drag.
And the maldies set in,
when they’d want to set things straight.
The doctor announces with a grim look pronounces,
‘The malignant growth’.
While they run from pillar to post,
shelling out savings for a chemo dose.
Parents,spouses and children wait aghast,
numbering off the days that last.
So when the pink of health might be given another chance,
when they still possess a flair for romance,
may they outlive numerous moons,
which might still be better than a funeral that came way too soon.