The Bottle's Bottom


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.



I found depression...


It was drowning in my whiskey.

The End

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