Bottles

I walked into a room, you were standing there your hands were soaking wet, but you didn't care. bottles were on the shelves, the shelves were on the walls, labeled with a name, and "for when they come to call". i glanced at you, you were looking back. you knew these were tough times for me, and you wouldnt let me forget. i saw a bottle with my name, i asked you what it meant. you said that inside were the tears i've cryed, each time i had to repent. i wanted to take the bottle, and smash it on the ground. but i didn't. i looked at it and didn't make a sound. I thought about all the times you hounded me, for the things that i did wrong. but i thought about how you knew what was best for me, you were right all along. I know i should go back to the good way things used to be, but i struggle with that, you know its difficult for me. things with me keep getting more intence, and i know that my life is at expence. But i just want to stay right where i am now, i will have to learn my lesson, eventually, somehow. in the mean time i know that you'll be waiting for me to fall. You'll be in the room, with the bottles on the shelves, and the shelves on the cold dark walls. and maybe next time i enter, my face will be wet and red, and i'll be in the center, holding myself up by a thread. But you can hold me up whenever that thread breaks. and you can save the tears from each time my heart ached. For now i hold it in, and don't seem to have a care, but when i do come to call, i know you'll be standing thier.