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i wallow.
waking up in cold sweats
feeling hollow.
another drink until
tomorrow.
sometimes this truth is
hard to swallow,
unlike the whiskey
that drowns my sorrow.
in the future-there lies
a past.
things i've done come
to haunt me, Alas.
seeing horrible visions.
my life
aghast.
from this bottle.
i'll drink my last.
--michael l. lewis
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1 comment:
cool poem, I run a blog Ezine for poetry.
http://vintagepoetrypublishing.blogspot.com/
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