The Bottle
The Bottle
He walked down and empty alley, with a bottle in his hand
His face was old and rugged
From the rough life that he had lived
The bottle lead him to this point and brought him to his knees
But he always had the simple choice to let go, to be set free
He was a friend like a brother and we hung around the bars
I'd drink a few but his was more
And I saw he could not stop
It got to the point where all the fun was drained from my good friend
I chose another path and sobered up and walked away from him
And he never took the option
To walk the straight and narrow road
The whiskey bottle held him tight never to let go
The pain got into his soul, it's sting he could not bare
He took a big slug off the bottle and put the gun to his head
Because he never took the option
To walk the straight and narrow road
For the whiskey bottle held him never to let go
Now the bottle does not hold him and the pain he no longer feels
That rot gut whiskey bottle has finally set him free
David Gary Pennington
Copyright © David Pennington | Year Posted 2010
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