I look in the mirror,
and what do I see?
A face with no future,
stares out at me.
On the table, a glass and a bottle,
of my favourite poison.
When I was young,
I drank to be alive.
Now all I do,
is drink to survive.
My eyes bloodshot,
filled with vacant stare.
My face goes unshaven,
but what do I care?
My bottle is now empty,
quickly replace with one full.
Soon it will be empty,
just like this fool.
Family and friends fled.
My eyes were blind.
All they could see,
was another drink,
in front of me.
My legs get unsteady.
I stagger instead of walk.
A bottle wrapped in paper,
gripped tightly by my hand.
My clothes grow dirty,
as days and nights combine.
A smile is frozen,
on this face of mine.
My arm flex out,
when I stumble to the ground.
Faces look down at me,
expressions display my waste.
I just hold my smile,
as I lay there in their midst.
At least my bottle,
didn’t break,
on my fall from grace.
Time for another drink,
raise bottle to my lips.
Liquid trickles down my throat,
and still my smile remains,
as silly as it can be.
The faces disappear.
Everyone has gone now.
Like family and friends,
they all desert.
I lay there on my own.
For no one wants to take,
a drunk home.
25 Jan 2007