I lived in the bowls of hell.
Drunk and ashamed.
Those were days of plenty.
I had an abundance of stress
and strife. I woke up to a
bottle and passed out at night.
I never actually slept. That was life.
The mornings were hell until
I had my vodka. I was chained
to a beast.
Copyright Friend Of Bill 01-04-2009 ©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem