That hospital gown really
brings out your hazel eyes, baby
Your crippling self-loathing
Affinity for Alcohol abuse
And drug dependency
Make you so magnetic
Girls do love a troubled twenty-something

Those dilated pupils  must really  pull them into your merry go round of calamitous habit  
Leading to nowhere at three hundred kilometres per hour.

The only grip you have is on that bottle of two dollar brandy
Desperately scratching away at your epidermis
Puffing cigarettes as though your sanity and  life depend on it

Voluntary admission at the place of rehabilitation
The third attempt to mend your broken self
And purify your soul
Knocking at death's door
This time it will be different, you say
No one is holding their breath.