Lugubrious wine

years of confusion
in moving around
searching for pleasure
suspicions propound,
one day is Heaven
the next day is Hell
when they will cease
no one can tell,
how come i'm here
i wish that i knew
anger for breakfast
lunch is mad stew,
what in the Hell
will tonight's supper be
a kettle of hate
served boiling to me?
sadness would be better
with angry times gone by
i wish that we could get along
at least attempt to try,
perhaps a cooling glass
a cold drink might be fine
a sip of something sad
chilled lugubrious wine. . .