---

 

In the depths of despair, a soul cries out. This poem plunges us into the icy grip of loneliness, where a solitary figure drowns their sorrows in a bottle.

The lines grapple with a relentless pain, a constant companion that stretches back through a life seemingly devoid of joy. As the world surrenders to darkness, he embarks on a haunting journey through memory, each step echoing with regret.

Death is his only release. Prepare to be swept away by a raw plea for mercy, a desperate yearning for escape from the clutches of this self-inflicted torment.

---

 

Sitting alone
Bottle in my hand
My solitude and I are best friends forever
Bound together by this endless piercing torturous pain
Pain that has always been our bane
Sleep has become an illusion
Requires a potent narcotic alcoholic infusion
As daylight fades and darkness engulfs us in its stark dark cloak
Walking down memory lane, a life that sucked, doled out nothing other than pain
Two tormented souls with nothing more to share
Bottles of bourbon, guzzled straight
Uttering profanity under our inebriated breaths, we curse our fate
Tears pour down like rain
The heart is torn
Prays for an end to this anguish
Dreams are dead, hope died way back
Long buried, no traces of it’s corpse remain
Squatting in a corner, bottle of bourbon cradled in my arms, a glass filled to the brim sits on the floor
Its a cold winters night, the doors and windows are wide open
Bone chilling winds are blowing, freezing my blood and veins
Waiting for death is a nasty game
One day the grim reaper will arrive, partake of the drink and take me away
To the heavens we shall soar
And this lonely, pathetic heart of mine will ache no more.
God have mercy.

---

 

ANOTHER ONE IN THE FORM OF A BALLAD

---

 

In the caverns of this lonely night, I dwell,
A captive soul, in a bottle’s broken spell.
My only friend, this amber, swirling tide,
Does solace hide, or just another lie?

Sleep, a fickle bird, on restless wings takes flight,
Leaving nightmares etched in pale moonlight.
Memories, vipers coiled within my mind,
Whisper tales of a life I left behind.

Two shadowed figures, drowning in despair,
Clutch the bourbon’s warmth, a fleeting prayer.
Words, like poisoned arrows, pierce the air,
Can this endless night ever truly bear.

The weight of sorrow, a heart that’s turned to stone?
Where have the dreams gone, the ones we used to own?
Lost in echoes of a life that used to be,
Is there a light beyond this misery?

The reaper’s touch, a whisper on the breeze,
Will it bring solace, or eternal unease?
Flung open to the chilling winter’s bite,
Is death a comfort, or the final night?

Perhaps a different path still waits unseen,
Where hope, a fragile bud, might yet turn green.
Tell me, dear reader, have you ever known,
A way to mend a heart so utterly alone?

For mercy’s sake, a guiding hand I crave,
To break these chains, and find a life to save.
Is there a spark within, a flicker of fight,
To rise above the darkness, and greet the coming light?