Irish Curse Poem by William F Glennon

The bottle is the Irish cancer.
To escape this precedent, we all need to seek the answer.

The nearer the bottle the vision becomes clearer.
Your rear view mirror is broken, and death is nearer.

Is this genetics or a stroke of bad luck?
Tired of the pain. Living in shame.

History did not yield an escape from this family tree.
Your guilt won't set you free.

The serenity prayer is bygone.
Moments of clarity won't hold on.

The adversary is the bottle selected.
You know the damage will be expected.