I walk the path of sobriety by myself,
The rest of my agemates worshiping the drink,
But wonder why I’m writing this in my room, alone.
I don’t feel anything when they succumb to the poison,
I didn’t know them that well to begin with,
But wonder if there will be anyone to send me off.
I keep the same routine every day,
I spend all my free time within my room,
And I’m the only one to make it to ninety.
But as I wither away, I do regret,
That I have not one example of youthful elation,
Nor an adulthood filled with rich memories.
I am but a still pond, beautiful but empty;
As though a life of abstinence saves,
Where there is no wind, there are no waves.
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