May 2015
The bottle is open, the rizzla rolled, the glass is half empty now the story’s told. The days are long and the nights are short, look at that drunk he can’t even walk, let alone talk.
He seems to drink all his memories away, hopping that the alcohol will take he’s tears away.
His stomachs rumbling and his mouth is hungry, He’s got three pounds in he’s pocket, that’s okay he’ll be round the alcohol store in a hurry.
His therapy sessions are long and boring He’s asked: Do you like feeling like this every morning!
What started out as a hobby has become a thirst? He knows deep down inside he will never be missed. Not even by the newsagent or the drunks that sleep in the dirt.
Or by the cold lonely mornings or the alcohol he sips or the smile and thing’s That he wished he would never missed.
Addiction needs help, not a story that twist’s. It needs love and understanding, so would you be the first?
Jidos reality 12.10.11
He seems to drink all his memories away, hopping that the alcohol will take he’s tears away.
His stomachs rumbling and his mouth is hungry, He’s got three pounds in he’s pocket, that’s okay he’ll be round the alcohol store in a hurry.
His therapy sessions are long and boring He’s asked: Do you like feeling like this every morning!
What started out as a hobby has become a thirst? He knows deep down inside he will never be missed. Not even by the newsagent or the drunks that sleep in the dirt.
Or by the cold lonely mornings or the alcohol he sips or the smile and thing’s That he wished he would never missed.
Addiction needs help, not a story that twist’s. It needs love and understanding, so would you be the first?
Jidos reality 12.10.11
