Bottle

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Your punching bag in motion

Doormat you walk across

Disrespect me and yourself

You a product of your past

Me a victim of your present

Bottles of gin strewn across the floor

With stale, foul breath and glossy eyes

Slurred speech and compromised mind

Stumbling across the ruins of your life

Your loss leads to my demise

Pulling me down into your abyss

Spiraling with centripetal force

Mutual assured destruction

 

Copyright 2016-2-26- L.M. Giannone

www.spillwords.com/bottle/

 

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