The World Inside that Bottle

You can party all you want,

Feel that buzz racing through your body.

You can touch that figure in front of you,

And get the release you need.

You’re the one who picked it up,

Not me.

You’re the one who drank it,

Not me.

You’re the one who’s going to drown,

While losing the one you love.

I’m hurt. Like the kind of hurt that you physically feel.

I’ve cried. Cried so much that I’m all empty inside,

An emptiness that feels more like a black hole.

You drank it. You picked it up.

Yet, you say it wasn’t your fault.

Boy, if you only knew that the bottle in your hand,

Holds so much power.

It chooses if you get to hold me at night.

It chooses if you get to kiss my lips.

It chooses if you get to touch certain parts of my body,

That make me moan in pleasure.

But most of all, it chooses the path that will hurt us the most.

You’re the one who picked it up,

Not me.

You’re the one who drank it,

Not me.

You’re the one who’s going to drown,

While losing the one you love.