Graduate

Nobody asks why I don’t drink.
There’s not a soul who wonders what I think.
See, it’s easier to talk than it is to see,
And changing’s harder for you than me.

I’ve wasted 27 years trying to quit causing trouble.
I’m starting to see it wasn’t me who was rubble.
Stop pointing, quit waiting for me to fail.
Don’t you see, I’ve already bungled what you set up for me.

I hope your face turns blue,
Hope your tongue turns to glue.
Hope your ears open to listen,
Maybe you’re fixated on just what glistens.

Here’s a hint: it’s congealing, won’t shine long,
And when the glimmer fades and your eye finds my stare,
Oh, what do you look for that isn’t despair?
Why would you cut more than your fair share?

Your placebos, alternatives and doctors’ letters are pretense,
Your agenda’s no mystery, it was mine too when I was hence.

But here’s some wisdom, if you’ll take it, common sense:
No one punishes a dog that growls over its food, fenced
In where he belongs, when you give, he takes without incense.
But even a dog gets to come in out of the cold, Mercy’s lens.

I’m not your trouble maker.
I’m not your rebel rouser.
I’m not even your problem.
Graduate.

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