And so, I raised another glass
Cheers mates, I'd say for the sixth time today
Another glass down
The once sharp, sour, thick, gross flavor
Becomes warm as I guzzle down more
The feeling becomes fuzzy
As the cool liquid falls down my throat
Another glass down
One more to go
I raise glass after glass
Smiling with each one that passed
I talked, I talked
But with another glass in my hands
I dream, I dream
Another glass meets my grasp
I believe, I believe
I shatter the next glass, holding it too tight
Finding myself within a bar fight
My future slipping from my grasp
As I grab another glass
Another glass down
And one more to go.
YOU ARE READING
Where The Grass Grows
PoetryA poetry collection about life & death, love, loss, & grief. Written through the lens of a 15-17-year-old girl. These poems are a collection of my story. Take care of them. They mean the world to me.
