This life is not what I wanted.
I just wanted to feel something.
My mistakes are caused by this, yet I continue to dismiss all I'm told.
I've taken the term bottoms up way too literally. Something about the empty bottles that built up. They built a tower and that tower has fallen all over this life and I can't seem to escape their presence.
The taste of this alcohol on the tip of my tongue almost tastes like happiness, I guess that's why I return.
I'm sorry for all I've caused you. I swear it was the alcohol talking.
I wish I could take responsibility for my bad actions but I forgot them when this bottle touched my lip.