The Orange Bottle

You sit there and tempt me

Every night when I’m empty

You are supposed to be helpful

Unless I take you by the handful

 

One each morning by the mouth

Is supposed to stop my feelings from going south

But somehow they get there anyways

To a place that’s cold and dark and gray.

 

Sometimes at night I wonder if there even is a light

If maybe this is it, and I should just give up the fight.

One each morning is what the doctor said

But why do I spend every night crying in bed?

 

Sometimes I lie there, hopeless, and full of sorrow

thinking that I could take them all, and just swallow.

And sometimes that seems like the only way

Because these thoughts just never go away

 

cp

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s