Hangover

I think I'm drunk.
Not on happiness, or love.
No, none of those for me.
Not this year anyway.

I think I may be drunk.
As I watch the road blur in front of me.
Is the road wet?
Or are those tears in my eyes?

And why do I cry?
And why?
As the anger pours forth from me,
And I feel the wrath.

At Haman's name,
I stamp my feet,
And think of all the evil in the world,
And wish it to be gone.

Yes, even the evil that has touched me,
And I think that must be selfish,
But I want so very badly,
To be rid of these demons once and for all.

I think I may be drunk,
The lively music still playing in my head,
The gorgeous faces of the children,
The sticky cotton candy.

And the crumbs, oh the hamentashen crumbs.
They are everywhere.
Even on the dance floor.
And as I show my moves, the room blurs.

I wonder if this blackness
Which engulfs me on the
Supposedly happiest day of the year,
Can be drowned out in any way.

Will alcohol take off the edge?
Will it make the darkness that much lesser?
Will the evil in the world be gone,
along with my senses?

The music blasts in the car,
And I can't hear my own voice,
And that is probably for the best,
Because I think I may be screaming.

And as the barrier looms ever closer,
And I realize I may hit it,
I know it would be of my own doing,
Because alas, I am stone cold sober.