Sober Alcoholics: (Cutting Onions)

I enter the kitchen, start looking.
I find something as I prepare for cooking.
Not a great cook, but one has to eat before sleeping.
As I begin, I have my knife, I start chopping.

The knife hits the chopping board in some sort of a rhythm.
The music lover in me, listens and tries to keep it going.
And all of a sudden I’m taken, my mind is off as the music triggers me.
Now everything is going through my head reminding me of what I could’ve ended.

It goes like…
After everything I’ve done so far, the parents are still not satisfied.
And I can see the sorrow in their eyes, because of the mistakes I’ve made.
They don’t tell me anything because they still wish I could change.
It is all up to me, but how do I do it?

My friends have left me, because I haven’t been progressing.
Who wants to be associated with stagnant people anyway?
When we started, I was promising and they thought something is coming.
But people can wait for so long, before they start walking.

Excuse my language, but I’m also a shitty father.
I blame everything on the baby momma because I’m failing to take responsibility.
But the reality is, if I can produce, I must also be able to support and protect.
It can’t be that I enjoy starting but I can’t get to the finishing line.

As all these things in my head play, a tear drop hits the floor.
It disrupts the music, and I come back from the dream.
I look by my side, nobody’s here, so nobody sees me.
I look at this board and I see the reason I’m having tears is because I’ve been cutting too much onion all this time.

But now I’ve lost my appetite.
I have to go and sleep or make myself proud.

When things like this hit, you always think you’re the only one….


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