Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2016
Alcohol like water,
I've been gifted with the ability to sin.
I've been waiting for snowfall,
but have been cursed with warm winds.

My room is cold and empty,
pictures on the wall, unfamiliar.
Chipped white paint, peeling and cracked,
all a blur when you're drunk.

Just one more sip from the chalice,
tongue isn't numb enough yet.
Another ******* night under cold sheets,
shivering to sleep.

And in the morning, I will rise,
a victim of the next day,
waiting for Redemption Day,
waiting for that jet black train.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Barry Andrew Pietrantonio
Written by
Barry Andrew Pietrantonio  29/M/Salem, New Hampshire
(29/M/Salem, New Hampshire)   
393
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems