I see the world through shattered lenses now

Because every time I fall

My glasses crack a little more

Crack like the bottle every night

Before I wake up on the floor.

I lie there.

I lie there on the floor just like I lied my way through rehab

I said 'hi my name is Linda

I'm not drowning I'm just sinking

Like my teeth into the coils

Coils of a tap

Because I don't feel like thinking.'

 

But I am not an alcoholic.

 

My grandkids are growing up so fast

But that's what their mother tells me

I can't see it for myself

Because I won't get out of bed.

My filthy soggy bed

That wreaks of putrefaction?

That's what I lie in every night

With no hope for satisfaction.

I lie there.

I lie there in my bed

Just like I lied to my poor daughter

About what was in the bag

Or in my car

Or in my cupboard.

 

But I am not an alcoholic.

 

I use what strength that I have left

To wipe away the feverish sweat

And I listen to the voices say

Just pop another pill

There has to be a way to end

This ever-haunting pain.

The burning stabbing raw and raging

Violent vice-like pain

The kind that makes you hold your breath

With total immobilization

That stains the couch and carpets

With bloody regurgitation.

I lie there.

I lie there on the stretcher

Like I lied to all my friends

Who tried their best to help me

But I don't need them in my life

I can take care of myself.

 

I am not an alcoholic.

 

Sirens blaring

Tires squealing

All colors run together

Machines are beeping

People crying

And my daughter holds my hand

I asked her 'am I dying?'

She said 'you're gonna be just fine

I love you Mom, I love you

And we'll get through this together

Don't you worry.'

I lie here.

I lie here in my grave

Just like I lied to myself

About who I really was.

I could have gone the extra mile

I could have seen my grandkids graduate

I could have been the mom

That I always should have been.

And I'm sorry.

 

I am an alcoholic.