deepundergroundpoetry.com

At the bottom of the bottle

I took a stroll with death
staggered and stumbled,
at times death let go of
me, letting me fall on the
cold, wet ground

As I lay there my head
was spinning, the voices
mumbled and laughed
but death was still there,
waiting for my soul, all
I could say was, you're
hurting me

Death didn't care, it hovered
over me and kicked me
while I was down, it
snickered and poured
me another shot, turned
me over and passed it
through my lips, I could
see it, death, at the
bottom of the bottle
Written by tommielynn (Tommie Lynn)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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