the bottle seems to have gotten the best of me again
and it only reaffirms my suspicions that i should dry my pallet
because i don't look good in stripes
so i sit on the cot
staring at my socks
starving for an answered prayer
desperate for a lost god
and still foolishly thirsty to dance in the fire
when released
i get off light with a fine
and walk home in the dirty clothes i was wearing when
they brought me in
i walk by the house i grew up in
and i can't believe what has become of me
i had potential
i had a dream
i had hope
where did it all go?
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