The Bottle's Bottom

Yesterday,

I found depression

At the bottom of a bottle.

 

It looked thirsty,

And so

I fed it with my tears.

 

It held its mouth open,

Eyes wide,

Like a baby bird.

 

I turned from the mirror,

Appalled at the apparition before me,

What I have been reduced to

By divine intervention.

 

And yet I am not strong enough,

To do the right thing.

Pushing life to one side,

I poured myself a drink.

 

Yesterday,

I found depression...

 

It was drowning in my whiskey.

The End

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