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My life before prison

My life before prison
was broken and sad.
The life of a drunkard,
A liar, a cad.
I've spit in the faces
Of family and friends,
And don't have the courage
To pursue their amends.
It's been four long years
Since I had my last drink,
Yet my actions still haunt me
Everytime that I blink.
Does the pain that I've caused
Deserve absolution?
Can my soul be set free?
Or is that a just delusion?
The hateful words spoken.
My fists thrown in spite.
The promises broken.
A life with no light.
How do I begin
To clean out my closet?
Do I start with my kin,
Or The God that I posit?
Will the people I've hurt
Find any relief
When I beg their forgiveness
With true heartfelt grief?
What if they refuse
My plea for remission?
How will I break free of
The yoke of contrition?
My life after prison
Is yet to be had,
And these questions unanswered
Will just drive me mad.
So I write these last words
With tears in my eyes,
Can you ever forgive
My actions and lies?

See all poetry for Robert O'Brien #272196