A Bottle Of Whiskey To Cover Up The Bruises

To my cousin, Devin

You're made of genes from a beer bottle
and insecurities you hide underneath fake confidence.
Shadows built themselves a home in your head.
And when the clock grows short,
your heart races faster than time itself.

You own father tried to buy your love
then turned his back on you,
giving all his affection to a baby that wasn't his own.
The monster in the south hit you
until your skin changed to black and blue.
Then she caked your skin with makeup to hide your pain.
Your mother never gave you magic beans to clear your head
but instead she sent you to a man who let you empty your insides
then stopped sending you as soon as the storm started to clear.

Since then you've gone to Mary Jane's house
to lose yourself in her scent,
letting her float through your veins.
While Jack Daniel's fogs your head,
erasing every remant of a sober life.

But if this the way you want to exist,
damaging your body until your lungs are blown
and your liver has shrunk to the size of a dime,
then go on ruining the house you grew up in.
I'd rather have a drunken brother
than a coffin at my next birthday.