Drink Them In – Thirty Poems in Thirty Days Number 7

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Drink Them In

Drink them in, son
He tells me
Bring them into you
He tempts me

They are yours to do
With as you please
They fall down at your altar
To worship on their knees

I look at them
Pathetic as they may be
I am torn like frail paper
There is no delight in their suffering for me

But I do as my father commands
For who am I to disagree
With eternal wisdom
Forged from all the mistakes of history

So I open and take the most satisfying sip
They flow and become parts of me
I drink their sorrows
Their happiness means nothing to me

Such an invigorating feeling



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