Hate
Hate is what wells up inside me when I hear the bottle open because
I know
I know what's in store, the opening of countless others after
The first
The first is what starts it all, the slurring of the words, the stumbling and
Most important
Most important the way she says she's not good enough and how she's a piece of s**t and
Next
Next I feel sorrow because she is acting like this, like a child, drinking herself to oblivion. What did
I do
I do nothing, hoping that the next day this dreadful cycle will not repeat because
I can't
I can't handle the mess that is now my life all because of
One bottle
One bottle was all it took...
