Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
Another day lived drop by drop,
I cannot turn to God, how can I stop?
Friends family beg alike,
Yet nothing compares to those golden drops.
Golden amber, bliss frozen into drops.
Is this how a mortal feels,
Having drunk ichor?
By the bottle there is no shame, only pain.
I drink a lot not sure if that's new,
These few moments of regret with myself,
Grace me till I reach the shelf.
But when the bottle is open, there is nothing more.
Sorrow makes me grip the bottle tight,
Despair won't leave me till midnight.
Delirium patiently waits,
As I drown in the amber fluid.
All thoughts of abstinence are crude,
I no longer have any pride.
All this regret is from a former me,
One I can no longer be.
Revelation and realization overcome me like a high tide,
Sorrow drowns me in its folds.
I guess there is no other way yet,
So I drink till I choke.
Silent stares from my friends,
Cut the silence like broken glass.
The silent sobs of my mother,
Sound so distant. Dampened by the liquor.
I despise what I have become,
I have lost my own self.
Maybe one day I'll be back,
Till then I'll drown and hate.
Atlas Rover
Written by
Atlas Rover
900
   Prisha Sinha and Mahima Gupta
Please log in to view and add comments on poems