The Bottle’s Sins
The bottle whispers, soft and low,Promises things it doesn’t know.Just one sip, it hums, so sweet,Just one more, and you’ll feel complete.
He listens close, he drinks it down,Lets amber lies erase the frown.The past dissolves, the pain turns thin,Drowning deep in the bottle’s sins.
But morning comes like a sharpened blade,Slashing through the deals he made.A mirror full of hollow eyes,A body soaked in whiskey lies.
He swears it off—he won’t give in,But the bottle winks, and calls again.It never leaves, it never dies,Just waits for thirst behind his eyes.