If it is structure I hope to attain,
Then surely I am too far gone.
Another verbally butchered hymn that I pray to find release in, will remain a story of how the drink took me. Took me to slopes too steep. Valleys ever narrow. Nothing could quench my thirst, just left to bones without marrow.
Not the tears of my mother, theft from my brother,
the lies to woo a past lover, could stop me from having another.
A phase; "believe it'll pass and it will,
But along with your belief you have a life bound to this pill."
I want hope, I want to believe
I want to know it'll be okay.
I see that in others, just not me.

My periods don't go where they are intended to be.
My words hardly pass the count of four and this still has me sore before my feet hit the floor.
No over abundance of grammatical frosting to make these up to par, I've already passed my bounds.
I've gone too far.
As simple as this may be for you,
Consider yourself one of the lucky few.
To have the knowledge to know what your inability to be at ease tells you while you're typing on screen. For me that can be. Or so it seems.
Set me free