Last Call

He mends himself the only way he knows,
  and still the wounds bleed.
This is the only place he goes,
  not for a want but for a need.

With nothing left for him at all,
He fills the void with alcohol,
and hangs another bottle on the wall.

It is hard to see it different,
  when you can't see at all.
With his feelings so indifferent,
  he stays for the last call.


1/20/16
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A  Avatar
June 20, 2016 at 11:39 PM
ANGEL, Enjoyed reading your thoughts and words. Keep sharing and writing poetry. ~SKAT~
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace