Golden-brown

Glassy-green

Assorted labels

What does it matter?

It's all the same inside.

Here I am, staring into

my elixir, into my drink.

So many years it has been sipped

Why should I be denied?

The liquid is rich,

the feeling that lightheaded high

that you get from cheap, legal drugs.

Don't drink and drive.

I've mastered that, I think.

At least, I'm smart enough

to take a cab.

So am I perfect?

No.

For as I stare into my glass

The drink disappears.

And again I face the guilt of failure.


This poem is for Dissonance of Song who I aspire to write as well as. Also: I have never had beer, wine or any other alcoholic drink in my entire life. This was just from my imagination. Deal with it.

-Shadow