The rest of the story
The dirty laundry
That only the child of a hopeless
Alcoholic anonymously can know
How I felt ashamed
Scared
Flawed
To my very core
Guilt like a pair of concrete boots
Dragging me down
To the bottom
Rock bottom
I met you there
And I wept
While you slept
On the floor
Cigarette still in hand
Like a little flare
A cry for help
In that big empty old house
Now nothing more than a memory
That haunts me still
No matter how far I run
Away.
No comments:
Post a Comment