T O T
We tip the glass to the tortures of time
A whiskey kiss for gentle lips
The savage decay of a loveless shrine
We toast to hearts as broken as our own
The glasses clink and gulps sink
Every one of us, cold as stone
We fill the void that ripped through our soul
As if today, we wish to say
God has delivered us out of this hole
We tip the glass to the tortures of time
The whiskey is gone, it’s time to move on
Let go of the anger, it keeps us confined
D.R.L.
Copyright © dillon lewis | Year Posted 2019