The weight of the world and all of our responsibilities pushes us deeper into the abyss within us all. Our lowest darkest and most honest selves come out when there is nothing and no one who would bother to care about what is found. We all want an escape. Mine is liquor. When it happens the inferior feelings leave the sadness leaves the problems leave. There is no joy, but there is no sadness. There is no companionship but there is no loneliness. There is no one to witness my weakest moments but me god and the bottles. They still judge. With their dwindling content falling below each new line I make. The ceiling spins. The colors blend. The fact that he doesn't want me isn't a problem. I'm okay. I'm warm. Even if my family doesn't love me the whiskey does. Even though I haven't met expectations the wine doesn't judge. Or does it? I'm coming down. My happiness crashes and falls around me. I sink to the floor. It's over. IT CANT BE OVER. Take another swig, ignore the taste, two more gulps and finally every shitty thing I've done or said melts away; temporarily. I drink to forget but I always remember. Therefore, forever I remain Sad. Drunk. Lonely.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of my soul
PoetryThis my thoughts and feelings. I think they're marvelous, my feelings. I want to know about them and have them so I can see them again and once revel in their sweet embrace.
