20 years and a Bottle,
not much has changed
between the mother
rubbing whiskey on her
infant's gums
and the girl that stands tall now
drinking it from a cup.

To whom ever finds this bottle
My message is to you
I want to say now
I'm sorry If It sounds like I'm venting
But really I just want to tell someone
What's on my mind
And a little about me
But not know who I am telling
For some reason
That is comforting

I myself am not the brightest bulb
And I may make you want to
Hit your head against a wall
Sometimes many in a day
Because I spoke faster than my mind
Was thinking
My mind is weird
For if you ask something of me
I know I can do it
But yet my mind has a panic mode
And in a way forgets how to do it
Or the item you wanted me to grab
I question it for some reason
Even though I shouldn't have

So yea I am not all that smart
Sometimes I feel really ******
And just worse than dirt
And it's hard because I know
I am
Smarter
And better than that

I do have my moments though
Where I don't always think, rather act first
But it manages to put a smile on your
Face and make you giggle
That usually helps to make me feel better
But thinking back I feel dumb
But remember that I made you smile
And so I smile

I try my best to do better
For I love learning new things
And doing anything
That sounds different
Or fun
And an adrenaline rush
I will say yes to
Because that is such an amazing thrill

I may not always make sense
And sometimes I struggle
Putting together my thoughts into sentences
I get there eventually
But I get there

So if you're okay knowing
this little Bit about me
I hope this message
in this bottle
In your hands
Finds me
But if you do not wish
To want to know me
Then toss me back
Message in bottle
for someone new to find

Our initials chiselled,
With a crown cork bottle cap,
Into the trunk of our favourite tree,
Will the world wonder in time to come,
Whatever happened to you and me?

Empty: as the word meaning a
glass bottle in Africa.

I'd have my fill;
to the brim of life's expectations.
Expected of the plenty from the very
little I have given.

Life is that empty,
as many are trying at their fill.
On the straight and narrow, of where
it sits.

Hoping it won't spill.

How tall do you measure your glass
view of life?
Fragile are the moments; tapping on
the taps of glass.

Hoping it won't crack.

This bottle is what I make of it's fill;
Am I overburdened, or overflowing,
with the cares of the world, or whether
the Holy Spirit?

A question, only with the answer from
within; and as I ask from Him.

I wish I could fit myself inside a bottle,
that travels across oceans
sailing off with the message,
earth is not home
anymore
and that I'm better off,
living in this beautiful irony
of getting by
with the swelling, and the panics and the wild spasms
of the waters—

the only place
where I could
never
drown.