In a drunken stupor
The glass wracks with guilt
Under pressure of a gaze
Willing for them to shatter

--People below carry on
The graying sky a signal  
To the viewer's thoughts,
thoughts about a perished soul

Room full of old confessions
Dreary with a taste of venom
Held in the palm of a sinner’s hand
Stuck out waiting for someone to eat off it

No one could take the weight,
The burden of being an iniquitous man
Before, his hands were occupied  
Holding two different hands in each  

One let go too soon
The other held on too tightly
And now they were both gone
Slipping out of these deceitful fingers