Poverty; fuelled by drink

I wonder how many are ruined by drink
bottles; lined to face us
A social evening together
away from the world as it is.

It is a innocent thing to do
Laughing or singing, chattering
as the sun she slips away
and the chill of the night begins.

Down the road he go's
his hanky full of green snot
the guide dog lead's him home
past curtains and a humble love.

He sways as she walk's him back
No payment for doing her job
She is only a guide dog after all;
who looks for love in the dark.

There is the gate to the house
and their is the alley
where he may beat her
the thrash of the lead again.

No-one asks why might he do it;
or take the lead from this man
he's blind, you see, this drunken man
who hurls the back door once again.