This Time

September 1, 2010
By , Holcomb, MS
The fists fly,
The words cut,
The tears run,
Everytime.

Bottle in your hand,
Stumbling from room to room,
Slur your words,
Don't know who you are.

The fists fly,
The words cut,
The tears run,
Everytime.

The time will come
When this will end,
When this will stop,
Sometime.

The drink falls,
Glass everywhere.
The keys in your hand,
Will you even come home,
This time?





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