half of something

A Writer's Soul

Half empty half full,
It all depends on what angle you have the glass at,
Because all I see is that poison that fills the glass,
Tempted and ashamed all at once,
Because even though I try,
The glass always winds up in my grasp.
The red liquid coats my lips,
Gives me that allure and seduction I wish to ooze,
Blinding me to the effects I’ll feel in the morning,
And pretend it will be the last time,
But I know I’ll convince myself that it wouldn’t happen again,
That I know control and can practice it,
But I learned from my momma,
The best-kept secrets lay in plain sight,
A glass for stress, a glass for the pain,
A glass because you’ve endured so much wrong from him,
Even though he has no idea you’re hurting this much,
Because he has his own glass to fight, and the…

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