The Trip

I sit here in my hotel room, it’s heated very well

The hotel staff arrives with the shaking of a bell

They keep me stocked with booze galore

I needn’t rise to open the door

They pass it along to keep me well sloshed

I relax in a bed that is cushiony and soft

It’s a trip I’m making, this is but a stop

Just another short yet sweet daily hop

To continue my life through, in another state

But it’s a trip that is never too late

For it doesn’t matter how many years pass by

No matter what cure we conceivable try

I’ve been in this one forever it seems

I’ve gone through many days, many schemes, many dreams

Believing I would never leave or have to go

But with only being human, who ever knows

If we are at the beginning or the end every day

If we’ll stay or if we’ll soon go away

So in the hotel I’ll quit this stay

It’s the end of a trip without a say

And so I take meals and meds the same way

Because I’m nearing the end again today

I wait and I turn but I can’t turn away

I won’t go on forever, I must pass away

If not today, then some other day

 

Barbara Blackcinder

About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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