I sit at a kitchen table
That does not belong to me
And I stare into this glass of dark liquid

It fizzes at the top
Like a nice childhood memory
But the smell, reminds me of those days
That can be so contradicting

Music, laughs, and pictures are all taken place
With light heads and impaired balance.

So I keep taking drinks , but my glass doesn't empty
My conscience doesn't care
Just like his

I tell myself these are two different situations
But it feels all the same.

This dark liquid destroyed me
So why did I give in