Death Was Your Fix

This is a poem I wrote for my uncle after he killed himself…
How could you do this to us.
We all wanted to help you.
You just wouldn't let us.
We just wanted the best for you.
You could have stopped.
It's not that hard.
Drinking is only a quick fix.
But now you’re gone.
She's mad at you for what you have done.
For you were her only last blood related son.

By Kristy Mishler
Published: 11/7/2007
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