A Family Tradition

A poem on a family history of chemical dependance

My little sister is in the hospital again
See happiness to her is a warm spoon and full syringe
I haven't seen her in a week she's been on a binge

Her family will tell you she's quite the looker
Her customers say she's just a Craigslist hooker
Her boyfriend is dope I mean he's the cooker

You see her boyfriend's a chef
I mean he cooks meth
I'll admit I've bought some Sudafed at his behest

But who am I to judge I've been know to do a pill
And here I am acting like I've got some power of will
I've lost track of the brain cells I've got left to kill

It'd give our dad chills to see us this way
Yeah we're just like he was back in the day
Perhaps we're his karma but who can say

He used to crank and we just do dope
It's family tradition to do whatever to cope
My children will break the cycle at least I can hope