He picked up the glass,
Right up to his lips,
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth,
As he took consecutive short sips.
He put down the glass,
And sank down in his chair,
As he contemplated his thoughts,
Of every wound, every tear.
He looked through the glass,
And saw his reflection on one side,
But why did he have to see himself this way?
As he put his head down and cried.
He drank his sorrows away,
And emptied the glass soon enough,
He couldn't bear drinking alone,
When the times do get rough.