taco_tuesday03
I had a brother names Jim. He was 5. We went to the park. And he died after a man came and killed him. After that I cried. One day I was crying at the park. And I met a man named gin but his friends call him whiskey. He asked why I was crying. So I told him. He said he could make me feel better. We ended up spending a lot of time together. We met every day. And spent the nights together. One day my mom asked who I was talking to. I said gin. And she got mad. She told me no one was there. I didn't believe her. She blames me. So i threw a bottle at her. She cried and told me to leave. So me and whiskey left. We had fun together. Until one day he made me feel bad. He made me sick. And he had filled my room with bottles. Lots of bottles. Whiskey bottles. Only empty bottles. I thought it was a joke. Until I stopped seeing whiskey. He left. And then I saw my brother. He was in a picture. And I got sad. So whiskey came back. And he never left. But I left him. I slept and never woke. And now here I am singing my whiskey lullaby's to the empty bottles that fill me with sadness. The end.
