I know now why you don't drink alcohol -

can't stand the competition at all:

You are a shot of spirits distilled,

the highest percentage, ethanol filled.


I may have had a brandy shot,

on an empty stomach, that's a lot.

I promised myself, never again,

but I saw you, unexpected, there and then.

I'm weak, I'm sorry, never good enough,

the truth, it hurts, it's course and rough.


And the taste of your indifference burns,

more than the brandy; my heart never learns.

I hate this, and I hate myself most of all,

I want to move on, not gravel and crawl.

To sleep, to forget, to finally rest,

not to think about what could have been best.