Bittersweet,
lick the rim,
feel the chill,
on your skin.
Piercing liquid,
climbs down your throat
Yet lifting up,
in the room you float.
Your vision struggles,
to keep up.
As you tip the glass,
and begin to ****.
And a grin streaks your face
But it lacks it’s natural grace.
Artificial happiness,
Results in bitter loneliness.
Regret always follows,
When the day strays to tomorrow.
Addiction keeps you faded
Far into the moonshine
You have waded.
The bad taste
Turns times to waste.
Your twisted into a wicked trick.
Whisky dreams come and go too quick.
But life keeps going
The pain,
still growing.
Without you even knowing.