All I have left is you and I’m all you have left.Lisez l’histoire de Brianna Okemau
Hello, I'm Brianna Okemau. I'm from the community of Southend and I'm of Cree descent. Like many other First Nations Reserves, we have our own personal problems. One of our problems is alcohol and the addiction of alcohol. Of course being an alcoholic isn't something you should necessarily be proud of, but you shouldn't be ashamed of it either. You can get help if you're willing. The poem I wrote is my own feelings about it and my own words. As I thought about writing this, I stopped to think about the people I know and love that are affected by their own families drinking problems. I thought of how they would feel and what needed to be said. I won't put what they would say because they like to swear but I'll try and put their own hearts into it. I would like to take this time to say I'm sorry if you've lost a loved one to alcohol and that I hope that your heart mends. And I'd like to say thank you to my parents but especially my mother, who've encouraged me to write anything I want and to send it in because I'm shy about people reading my writing. So, thanks mom, and thank you for taking your time reading my poem.
Go next door to buy a bottle, or four;
It doesn’t really matter anymore.
Everything is gone.
The home, the family and your heart;
Just drink some more.
All I have left is you and I’m all you have left.
I’m the poison that wrecked your family before they left you;
I’m the thing that fueled your rage and hid your pain.
I’m the partner that helped you wreck your home,
Walls with holes and windows with broken glass;
You tried to leave once;
Being all good for a month,
Got back with the wife;
But then the arguing started again;
Over why money kept disappearing;
Then slowly you came back.
Back to the burning of my special touch;
Back to the dizziness in the morning;
You came back.
They always come back.
I’m in your heart, in your blood, in your brain.
I won’t change but you will.
You’ll be the monster in the night;
The wetiko of the past;
The dream of ‘what could’ve been’.
And I’ll still be alcohol.
I’ll still be on shelves;
In cases and in glasses;
I’ll still be in other people;
I’ll still be in their homes;
Under their beds;
Beside their clothes;
I’ll still be poison.
A fiery poison with lust for your soul;
I have a skill for damaging good humans with my touch;
Very good humans that become robbers and thieves;
That become angry and mean;
I can turn them into that.
I’m poison and I’ll be your home.
I’ll be your wife.
I’ll be your kids and heck, even the dog.
I’ll do anything for you, as you would for me.
Like the time you sold your couches for a bottle,
Or your toaster and your grill,
We’re meant to be;
So don’t fight,
Just let me in;
I don’t cost a lot;
Just your lifetime.