The glass of wine. Or maybe two.
Its friday night. You can go true.
"In vino veritas" - you think,
and loosing all to tiny silly thing.

You're falling into foggy dim:
but feeling newed and redeemed.
It's just an illusion of your set,
That at the dawn forfills regret.

The friday night. Your heavy heart
is craving endless "fall apart".
Forget a while concern and pain,
and keep on walking endless lane.

The glass of wine. Just hide yourself
In broken boxes, empty shelves,
In closet, in the glass, in a bottle of wine.
And never get a chance to clear your mind.

However...
You're going sober and staying true
or you will never make it through.

2023.05.05