Comments (0) Issue 3, Poetry, Writing


By Scarlet Phoenix Rise


I watched my father crumble as he hit a bottle of gin,

And in the morning he woke with a heart too soft and a frown on his chin.

He said that he couldn’t take it; that pain that was driving him mad,

And so then, I couldn’t take it–

Just the sight had made me so sad.

And now I’m glad and I’m happy, and doing everything I’ve got to do.

So I say, “What’s a bottle of beer or so? Or seven? Or twenty-two?”

And I danced ‘round the flames of the fire, tiring each of my limbs.

Every one of my movements were simple;

Each one of them made on a whim.


So I did this until I grew weary-

Of how I was

Wasting my time.

I looked to my


And I saw that a friend held his head.

He started to cry.

And I don’t know why, but it

Hit Me;

The Sadness which comes from Within.

The party was


The Bottle fell over.

Let The Crumbling Begin!


I woke in the morning, kept my head down, and

Embraced my new frown.

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