We hear it all the time. From friends, family and even ourselves, Don't drink and drive. Seems simple, right? It should be, but sometimes others don't follow through on our promises to never do it.

From a very young age, I grew up witnessing first hand the way alcohol can ruin a person. My father was, and I'm sure, still is an alcoholic to this day. I remember driving with him to pick my mom up from work one night and as soon as she sat down she knew right away he was drunk. Me being young, I didn't exactly register what was happening or was able to put two and two together.

She gave him a choice, either quit drinking or my brother and I couldn't drive with him anymore. He chose to drink. I wasn't even upset with the fact that he chose alcohol over his kids. I was more upset with the fact that he would have the nerve to drink and then get behind a wheel, not knowing that maybe just maybe it was wrong and he could hurt someone or himself.

Even though this issue is something that always happens, it becomes much more apparent during the holiday season. I wanted to write a poem about this because I wanted it to be short, sweet and to the point. So the next time you're thinking about driving after having just one drink, think again.

It Was Only One Drink

It was only one drink

you tell yourself

sitting in the back of a police car

at 1am

New Years Day.

Hands cuffed behind your back.

It was only one drink

you tell your friends

as they beg you not to leave the bar.

Trying to take away your keys.

You never did listen to them.

It was only one drink

you repeat to yourself

over and over again in the car.

As you put the keys in the ignition

and turn onto the road.

It was only one drink

you scream

as your car collides with the one in front of you.

Because you didn't see them,

that's what you tell yourself.

It was only one drink

your body tries to tell you

but is too busy being thrown around.

As your car skids to a halt,

releasing the airbag

almost suffocating you.

It was only one drink

as you try to gain consciousness,

unable to get out of your car

police and fireman trying to save you.

But you're no hero.

It was only one drink

you tell them

while slurring your words.

Strapped to the stretcher

warm blood trickling down your forehead

cuts painted over your hands.

The medicine knocks you out cold.

It was only one drink

you wake up in the emergency room

all wrapped up in needles

strung throughout your body.

Trying to save you

but you're not the hero.

It was only one drink

you keep reminding yourself

as they recount the accident to you.

Hearing the words

fatal

death

and

responsible.

It was only one drink

you explain in court

trying to save your life.

But everyone,

including the victims family,

trying not to cry

to show your weakness

but anger,

including you

knows you're no hero.

So you breathe your last breath of freedom

and walk out the person you are now

a criminal.

It was only one drink

it was only one person

is what you continue to tell yourself

each and every passing night.

As you lay awake in your bed

in a cold, jail cell.

As that one person

lays underground

in a wooden coffin.

Both places, no one asked to be in,

lives ruined,

over just one drink.

So the next time you tell yourself

it's just one drink

think again.