This alcohol fueled rampage of both love and hate kills me inside
It’s like no matter what I do I always end here
A drunken stupor of thought both good and bad
Usually just bad
Regardless of what I do I always end here
I can try to change my ways
I have in fact
But I still ended here
On my knees, on my side, curled into a ball;
A sobbing mess
A sobbing mess whose happiness could be temporarily found at the bottom of a bottle
But as I throw that bottle against the wall, shattering its exterior as my interior has as well
I wallow in my own self pity.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
This alcohol fueled rampage of both love and hate kills me inside
It’s like no matter what I do I always end here
A drunken stupor of thought both good and bad
Usually just bad
Regardless of what I do I always end here
I can try to change my ways
I have in fact
But I still ended here
On my knees, on my side, curled into a ball;
A sobbing mess
A sobbing mess whose happiness could be temporarily found at the bottom of a bottle
But as I throw that bottle against the wall, shattering its exterior as my interior has as well
I wallow in my own self pity.
Request permission to use this poem