The drink that killed
He gripped so tight in his cold hand
Empty bottle held by an empty man

Desperate to find the feeling again
Remembering nothing since then
In denial that the glass is the enemy
Nothing compares to that moment
Killing yourself just to smile again

Kind to others never yourself
Intentionally destroying what’s left
Listening to the demons
Like one day they will care
Expecting a different outcome
Despite what history has taught

Moving closer to the end
Everything might make sense then.