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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Alcoholic

There is something I can’t speak of,
or put on a table, and watch it
burn through the wood.
Tell someone, this is a tragedy.
This is what it looks like.
Hiding from denial.
A mockery.
I am helpless.
My prayers are helpless.
My heart can’t hide.

I look at the face of Providence
and shrug my shoulders.
I put my face on the earth
and breathe the dust.
In time it will take us back.
This is what tragedy looks like.
What happened should never have
happened.
What is a world that creates tragedy,
and inscribes headstones,
here lies the meaningless.

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