Ballad of a Teenage Drinker

Title says it all


9. Late


'Tis late in the night, and here I am, shivering with fright,

(or is it anxiety)

I am drunk.


'Tis late, 'tis late for me, I'm going downwards at an increasing rate,

falling, dripping, 'till the very last drop, the very end of the bottle,

comes to my lips. Off goes another cork, I take small sips,

'till again, the bottle's last drop drops.


'tis too late too late for me, save yourself, let go of my hand

I brought this to myself, I walked into this quicksand.


What they say ain't true, not just the good die young,

I am living proof of how its very very wrong.

A pretentious teen, who dares call himself a writer,

but in reality doesn't have the skills to even be a waiter.


Tis too late, too, too late. 

The sand is up to my shoulders, the end is near,

I shall have to confront Death, my greatest fear


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