Alcohol

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Gender Female
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Dried up, like a withered rose, once crimson red and full of life
Now turned black, with the deadly touch of time
Cursed with a tragic past, a life not worth living
And yet, I lived it anyways

Trying to prove a point, to make a change for the better
All my wasted efforts, running down the drain
Of a faucet, spotted with blood
Attempts at washing away, all my mistakes, all my horrid memories

Haunted by words unspoken
By silent screams, screams that linger throughout the night
One look in the mirror, but who I see is someone I don't recognize
Innocence, natural beauty
Hidden behind all the makeup, all the lies

Concealing my thoughts, keeping them under lock and key
Never telling a single soul
Of the pains I knew of in the world
Never warning all those young girls, that life itself
Isn't what at first, it seems to be

I wear a mask during the day, a fake smile I can't erase
But when I take it off during the night
I never like what I see
The mascara tears, staining my rose red cheeks
My golden eyes, black; like the coffee I drink, every morning before work

I reach under my pillows, reaching for the bottle I hide
The temporary feeling, of freedom, my few moments of false happiness
I grab hold of an empty bottle, I must have drank it all last night
So I walk into my closet, and grab the rum I stashed away

Now that the vodka's gone, I turn to something stronger
Anything I can find, just to take away my anger
For a temporary releif, of the stress I put up with during the day
But is it really worth it, for the tears I later cry?

Can't seem to hold onto myself, and I lay here in wonder
Asking question after question
What's wrong with me? Who am I really? What have I done with myself?
And, where can I find me?

My depression's kicking in, the numbing of alcohol
No longer takes hold of me
As I sink into a dark abyss, and drown myself with rum

A small bottle, that's all I had
Now it's gone, let's see what's left
Again, I'm walking into my closet
And I'm reaching for a bottle
I close my eyes, and I grip it firmly
Step into the light, look at the label

Whiskey
Again, i've gone for something stronger
I open the bottle, take a swig, no chaser
It burns, but is it worth it?
Or am I tricking myself into thinking
That in the end, I won't fall

I head down the stairs into the living room
Gripping the bottle firmly in my hand
Staggering a bit, but in my mind, I'm walking straight
I place a log in my fireplace
Some newspaper, a firestarter
I grab the lighter, and gaze into the flames

And in them I see heartache
While in the ashes, I seem to find myself
Burned one too many times
No one around, to put the fires out

Another swig of whiskey
The burning in my throat
My hand still firmly grasping, a friend that isn't true
Can't break the habit, turning myself into an alcoholic
I don't forgive myself, I don't forgive anyone
Forgiveness, I've forgotten the meaning
How to be happy, I fear I've forgotten how

On the mantel I see a small transparent bottle
Sleeping pills, I've never needed them
And though I know I shouldn't take them
I pour 3 into the palm of my hand
Chasing them with alcohol
Not exactly the brightest idea
But I'm drunk, I don't know better
So I do it anyway

I douse the fire, and curl up on the couch
I pull a blanket over my body, as I reach up and turn off the light
My eyes are heavy, my vision blurry as I stare at my t.v
My legs go numb first, and then my arms, followed by my hands

I close my eyes, thought I really don't want to
In fear of never opening them again
Never waking to see daylight
I start to drift off in a deep slumber
But will it last? I'm not for sure
Hoping I've not made a grave mistake
As the bottle hits the floor
What doesn't kill me will only make me stronger, wisdom comes with age and with wisdom comes great responsiblity and maturity.




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Gender Female
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Reviews 3900
Hello and welcome to YWS!

Your poem was interesting! For a second, I thought it would be something typical, like somebody living with an alcoholic, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found out it actually had to do with somebody going through alcohol abuse. :P

For your poem, you may consider trimming it a little. It's not that I don't like long poems -- I do. But it seems a bit repetitious, going on about how her life wasn't what she expected, etc., and it just seemed longer than it actually was. So you might want to temper that a little. :)

Also, and I don't know if this was your intentions, but I figured I would point it out anyway-- the poem seems more like a story with line breaks. That is, it seems like you couldn't exactly make a story out of it, so you put line breaks in and hoped nobody noticed. I am most likely over-exaggerating the whole thing. But that's what I thought.
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

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The very worst use of time is to do very well what need not be done at all.
— Benjamin Tregoe