Maybe drunk words are better than sober thoughts.  
When I write, and the words just ******* won’t come,  
fear holds them back  
fear of being real, of showing what’s really inside.  

I drink, and drink,  
alone in my room,  
no friends to share the glass with,  
no one to talk to.  

So I write my poems,  
pour my soul into these lines,  
and post them here,  
hoping someone will listen,  
hoping the silence won’t feel so ******* loud.  

Maybe someone will hear,  
maybe I won’t feel so ******* alone.