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Another Day Wasted
Seeking comfort from a bottle of spirits, I dive into the misery of morning. The sun spits fire at my retina. My fragile mind begins to crack. I attempt to stand on swollen feet, and struggle to reach a bottle of aspirin. It stands beside a crowd of long-necked bottles. These towers of glass comfort me like an old chum. Their frothy blood once nourished my happiness. Now, they are dry at the bottom, yet my thirst lingers on. This Pain is defiant and mocks my feeble attempts at drowning it. I try to shed light on last evening’s memories, but they are lost within a drunken void. Time is a bitter writer, etching his tale upon a slate of flesh. I reflect upon all these empty moments and Suddenly experience a moment of clarity. I pray for salvation from these demons. Then I smile wryly and put the amber bottle to cracked lips and savor the wave of alcohol crashing upon the battered shore of my soul.
This is a little different for me. I wasn't really sure about it so all of your suggestions and comments are welcome (they always are lol) This poem is about a person struggling with addiction. Let me know what you think. Thanks:)
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