...
The clock struck one
He had run out of rum
To complain, did he climb up the stairs
Only to find that no one really cared
He entered his brother's room, where the boy still wept
His sister's bed was empty, God knows where she slept
His parents door, he saw, was ajar
He watched as his father drove off in his car
His mother, he knew, would drown herself in liquor
As she did every time they would bicker
He watched as his elder brother lay shrouded in smoke
Not even attempting to hide his coke
Everything was normal, save one
The crucial detail; he had run out of rum
