Not even comfortable in his own world anymore,
Shooting at shadows,
Shot down, taking shots,
Now a partner with Vodka Inc.
It all seems very clear now at the bottom of the glass, As he truly understands what the buzz is about
He feels good, temporarily,
Until the booze cruise drops anchor and he is left again to deal with stark reality
He's finished, yet he still, exist,
This bottle is plastic, becomes recycled, maybe to return in another form
His return to something requiring normalcy is unlikely, however
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem