Through the Bottle

I have an empty bottle in my hands

It does not have my name on it

It is not mine

I peer through the neck of it

I see plaster scattered from holes

I see a car driving through the rain

Straight to a flickering technicolor neon sign

A bleak invite from the devil himself

I see the frustration of missed calls

ER, midnight, with only me and my mom

I see a man shouting horrible stuff

Towards the woman that carried me for 9 months

Towards his freckled son

Blue and red pills intertwine with the plaster

A broken TV where a fist kissed it

Never kissed skin, but damn got near enough

A concave dent on our car

Shouldn't I be out having fun?

In the body of the bottle

There is a cut and dry divorce

A man who can't seem to let go

But won't let go of what he became

This man is a leech

This man put my family through hell

This man still puts my family through hell

And in the heel of the bottle is forgiveness

Just enough to let me grow.