Bitter drink

The pretty words could describe my outer image
It would be quite normal to describe my insides as unfinished
I constantly let outside influences diminish me like a phantom menace threatening to finish me
And not like an artist completes a piece or a runner completes a marathon
The destruction, it does go on and on
But the process, I think, is a lesser evil
The real enemy is my own negativity that I hold in my bosom like a baby and let it feed
Bitterness that strong drink that I went and bought from the liquor store
I say I crave greatness but imbibe that drank more
The endurance is left to be seen and many are pushing
Pushing me right out of the way
Very few are helping me stand up straight
They don’t hear me singing drunkenly
Please carry me home tonight
My choices are the things I taste in the back of my throat
And sometimes it’s regret that I regurgitate
I try to customize myself on the outside
Just know that imaginary applause is the only sound that pretty makes
The turning of pages is what comforts me the most
The thing that tortures me it turns out is my very own ghost
I never really let go of what was or what could have been
There’s a lot of why and because
There are lot of conversations that were never had
There were a lot of misunderstandings
And not very much understanding on my part that life is more than a bunch of mistakes
I should not be devoting so much time to rinsing out the taste of a few bitter sips


One thought on “Bitter drink

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