Home sweet home
The beginning of the bottle has become my pride.
The music loud as walk and stride.
I feel myself slowly begin to drift in my zone,
it has now become my home sweet home.
With every memory i take a swig,
with every swallow i feel the desirable sting.
Laughters heard as people sing and cheer,
my bottle has become my protector to hide my fears.
Within this bottle is my confidence for awhile,
as i hold it to my lips i can't help but smile.
But with every drink it becomes a bitter sweet feeling,
because at the end of the bottle is the traumatizing way with dealing.
At the end of the bottle my laughter becomes shy,
the voice that once echoed slowly becomes silent and dies.
I can't help but sit there and fiend for more,
because without this bottle its like my mind closes the door.
It's my best friend,
my forever lover.
My worst enemy,
it has become like my mother.
It comfromts me when i feel low,
giving me the boost to get up and go.
Without this bottle the world seems so sad.
Life doesn't have beauty,
my mind so mad.
As the bottle becomes empty days and months apart,
eventually it can't mend the fear and damage in my heart.
It becomes like my worst nightmare,
the darkness that overtakes a life.
It becomes bloody knuckles ended with a knife.
The party is now me alone in my bed,
thoughts race through my mind the thought of being dead.
I have the bottle right in my reach.
It has become my family but also my disease.
Copyright © Vanessa Walsh | Year Posted 2017
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