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Four Months Past

October 17, 2008
By Anonymous

Four months past.
Life is clear as diamonds.
Liquid Novocain strips you.
Mind, morals, and reputation.
Stumbling for years.
Not able to regain balance.
Cold steel gripping my wrists.
My stomach in knots for weeks to come.
Memories tattooed in my brain.
Thinking, never again.

The author's comments:
This poem is about my struggles with underage drinking and partying. It's also about four months that have passed since I've stopped doing those things.
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