Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Breaking the Bottle

Drink soberly to escape our fates,
the cavalry come to strike with haste.
Drunk on insecurity and self pity,
We wash and wash but still remain dirty.
Drain the pain away with each swig,
foolish wills snapped in half like a twig.
Each shot stings less than the last,
but comes with a solemn reminder of the past.
Playing pretend in this world all too real;
Numb to all emotion, too cold to feel.
Eyes growing ever heavy,
Tears filling the dry levee.
Our fates have met us at the door,
Stricken down with a loud thunk to the floor.
Opening your eyes, looking up one last time,
the bottle stares back; the only tool of this crime.

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