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By Masimba Mukichi

Tick-tock;goes the wall clock
Each ticking second signifies his demise
Each sunrise and sunset, hastens him to the moist grave Each New Year, it’s his count down to the cemetery.
His waste fear is looming like Cyclone Idai.
They danced, wined and dinned at his birthdays, Mourning his death is now certain.
It’s on the horizon like a hurricane,
lt’s now carved in stone,he is now dust to dust
lt drives him crazy to face death head on
lt pricks his heart to know it for real,it’s his last summer. The die is cast, he must face his demon.
No need to wail over spilt milk.
He was a binge drinker, too late to reform
His liver is gone, he smells death,
He is on his way out, its inevitable
His waste fear is certain – to die of alcoholism!
If one can change, change now,
Binge drinking is a killer, don’t dare misfire.
Don’t dice with death , don’t be statistics,
Binge drinking kills, not a banter.

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