Saturday, November 10, 2012

One More Round



I found my sorrows at the bottom of a bottle,
and drank them slowly and thanked them wholly.
I wondered not why they tried to drown,
once my parched lips were the home they found.
As it flowed, a debt I owed, to the misery that once fled
A past repeated, a drink depleted, no memory of what they said.

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