Dark Poet

Oh holy water made by gods.
The final drops holds the solution
to every problem ever created.
The angels of the bottle,
keeping you company.
Soothing your every pain,
laying a sheet of dreams
over your dreadful thoughts.

The angels are your only friends,
whispering deceptive words in your ears.
Telling you one more glass solves it all.
Oh man, are you real?
Human feelings are gone.
You peed them out around ten a clock
then you hit the bars.

Dawn and a merciless sun arise.
Hits your eyes, telling you morning was hours ago.
The bruises on your arms reveal
the night’s adventures.
The angels are all gone.
Passed out for now
but soon they'll be back
asking you for more.