Smashed to Pieces

He took his first
Was only six
Friends were foes
Death was fixed

And where he sits
To this day
He remains the same
The same old slave

It's not just beer
It's not just scotch
It's not just whisky
He's not just lost

Cries for help
Well they are few
Thou shall not
Escape this feud

For his fuel
Is booze and drugs
A loss for love
An unfit glove

With holes and tears
Scars in life
Take time to fix
Some are light

Some so heavy
No light escapes
Personal black hole
His mind is baked

Yet with each sip
No thoughts will slip
Poems will come
He will not quit.

There will be days
When thoughts don't come
Until that time
I'll turn and run