Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The Bottle

These behavioral mood swings, tainted with alcohol
They make for a fall, while you scratch the wall
Realizing the illusions and dillusions are a product of your own madness
In the mirror you inspect bruises and contusions,
pity and pain,
you expect nothing less
One last drink and your on the brink
Destrucion overtakes
The alcohol breaks
No more are you in pain, but just remember
While you were asleep, no longer looking disdain
We were conciously aware
And it wasn't fair

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