Somber Sobriety

My brain
wakes up

and cries for
the death of
its living baby.

so used to
hurling
ourselves
[booze]
down the hatch,

the still
afterwake
unscathed
is surreal;

like crying
when happy,

our system
malfunctions.

Published by

oiseauxwords

I am bird, these are my words.

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