It's three in the afternoon,
Am at my fourth bottle of *****,
But don't you dare call me an alcoholic!
I look out my window to the street,
The sun's rays penetrating my pupils,
Much to my disgust.
I see two young lovers hand in hand,
If only they knew what heartbreak was.
I see some young kids playing on the street,
If only they knew the turmoils of adulthood.
I see a very young man singing happily,
If only he knew the horrors of life awaiting him.
I grinned and sneered,
As I saw the dark path thay lay ahead for everyone.
"Fools!", I called them.
They must lack common sense,
Out of touch with reality.
Surely they weren't reading the news,
Or checking the economic state of the country.
I was once ****** like them,
But I became wise after losing all hope,
And getting in touch with reality.
Am at my fifth ***** now,
My liver is failing, the Doctor says...
But I don't care!
We will all die anyway.
If there is light at the end of the tunnel,
Then I must be heading towards the beginning.
You can call me hateful,
I call me realistic.
This works gives an insight into the thought proccess of a hateful person.