It’s three in the morning. They call it the devil’s hour. Your heart is breaking; your eyes are swimming; and the ‘close friends’ list in your phonebook is empty.
Who do you talk to when your friends’ experiences are so out of touch with your reality?
Who wants to listen to your bitter rants when the latest fashion is to carry around a placard saying “Surround yourself with positive people; negativity will only bring you down”?
You are such a failure, you even fail to end it. She said, “The world always looks better after I’ve put down a few.” So I tried her suggestions. “Cherry brandy…vodka, wine, and whiskey.” Misty. Through the fog only one thing remained clear. You are not here.
I did not ask him to, but he kept coming around. I did not ask him to, but he kept opening verses. I did not ask him to, but he kept spewing the same hollow sermons. I did not ask him to, but he kept on, wasting his time-I was already wasted.
Can a heart be intoxicated to health? Can it be preached into mending? Are they there to pick up the pieces when it blows up in your face even though they are the ones who told you to ‘love like you have never been hurt’?
The left call you the life of the party; the right say you will lose your life if you party. How do you respond when you know you are dead already inside? Maybe one day I’ll be born again but for now-