The poet’s voice

Doth thy wish me prosper?
Or shall I woo, in this state
Either way, Il let you decide
I no longer wish to be with fate…

Dear Lord,
Shall I come before
Kneel and beg you to forgive?
Or shall, I drain the bottle, down another swig

The pain is too much, and all I want is to go away
So will you forgive me?
This drink doesn’t give another day
Nor does the body respond to touch
I’ve caused too much pain
Done too much.

My hands reek of havoc
And I have nothing to show
Just a bottle draining
The tankard of sins in tow


So pass me the bottle,
Down and out
Forgive before,
The poet’s voice can no longer shout…