Getting Over You Poem by Ronald King

I woke up Sunday morning a bottle and a bible in my hand on my path to self destruction holding both as tight as I can I don't look into the mirror cause I know I don't like what I see just the shell of the man that I used to be getting over you Lord is killing me I don't close my eyes one minute I don't see you walking though my dreams ain't the way it's supposed to be getting over you Lord is killing me my faith in God keeps me going when the whiskey lets me down I cling to the words in red when your memory comes around but when the bottle is empty and I'm numb to the truth that I once knew that my Bible holds the answer to me getting over you.