hey.

As the passion of love ignites like fresh sprung fire,
the feeble kicking of life starts like mice within a barrel of cheese.

but from that, comes out a bundle of joy and tears that will cause either,
untold joy or despair depending on the matter.
Yet it will still grow, weak fingers grasping a milk bottle,
to strong hands holding a beer bottle frothing at the ends.

those strong hands will either hold a loved one in their arms,
or be grabbing a blade in desperation. But pro-create or destroy,
the riptide will reach out and affect old and new lives.
Both ends of the spectrum, so easily achieved with the use of alcohol and rise of emotions.

Unlucky are the ones who grow old on a rocking chair,
grandchildren aflow and a crisp nice fire going in the fireplace.
Lucky are they who die young and pass into legend.
For they will be remembered always.