The writer poured herself
a glass of wine,
to cloud her mind.

My room still reeks of ***** and bad decisions-
Bad decisions that smell like a rotting carcass that is;
I cleaned my room two days ago, yet somehow it looks like a tornado hit it.
My mirror is on the ‘floor’ slightly cracked;
But I can’t find my floor, it’s hidden in the sea of all my clothes
Outside my apartment is the shattered handle of whiskey
I drank it all night,
And on my kitchen floor is the handle of ***** we finished too
How much exactly did I drink?
Enough to get me into the ER I suppose
I’m still picking out shards of glass from the bottom of my feet
Apparently when you’re drunk you feel so invincible-
You don’t realize you’ve walked on broken glass
Or notice the trail of blood that you’re tracking,
Just when I thought I was done living my own version of hell,
My mom called me.
She told me that she was disappointed in me
I heard how much every word that escaped her mouth sounded painful and sour.
I could tell she hated me for making her feel this way, but yet she still loves me with every ounce of her body
It must hurt having to love somebody who only causes you pain-
After a while her words didn’t sound like words anymore, just noises;
I didn’t want to hear what she had to say because
It started to hurt more than picking shards of glass from my skin
My mother hung up the phone-
Click, the receiver went dead and I was left with the sound of her hollow disappointed I love you.
My room still reeks of bad decisions and *****;
I don’t want to be in here, but I am
Because whiskey can only do so much-
It might take away the problems and pain for a little while,
But sooner or later it’ll get greedy and take everything you have
It’ll make you into a failure and a slave to its taste.
It will not only destroy you,
But it will destroy everyone around you, until it has eaten away everything