Choices

I write about the light, in our world
the troubles too, I find
and out of my mind, they sometimes slip
The negative viewpoint, that no good
pinprick!
I vowed that light should win the day.
Darkness there, but hidden away.
There's too much darkness having its say
I'll not let my demons out
like Bukowski so often did.
The pain lives on eternally.
So make a choice and set yourself free
I'll face the journey with joyess gratitude,
my choice being mine
choice not allowed to control my mind.
If i were to spue, from my mouth ,
that which i really knew.
Hank would down a bottle or two.
Half a dozen or more than a few.
Because, yeah . . . . . . . . . .
It can get really dark at times.
So what do you have left?
Just an empty bottle, baccy: empty sack?
Or did you journey on,
through all the pointless pain?
With a smile in your heart
and a careless regard.
You'll have left, this fulfilling Facade.
And that, is what you'll have left
instead of a dry bottle, baccy: empty sack.