Cheers to the mute tear on a cheek;
pass around that bitter sweet drink
That hits you hard right after the first sip
-the best flavour of it, is the odour of your past,
Fill up a heavy glass; get lost in the vestige of its spell
you’re high on most of your regrets, can’t you tell?

With a smile and delight, I swallow the poison
with such quick and heightened joy for the night
A bottle full of clear white, to erase all fears on the dot,
like a brand new pen, my first tip does leave a spot
I tipped the top, to embrace me as someone successful
just for those fleeting years- and now after in fame’s fall
I have all but a glass full of my tears.