Liquid extravagance in a bottle,
Holding the time that is to be had.
When adolescent eyes seem to lick,
The clock is smashed; The hands are numb.
Morals void, while fingers reach,
Another shot is all they ask for; First.
Then the music speeds; Breathing heavy,
The room seems to bite; Asking who are you?
What have you done to my son?
Now the bottle is smashed; Static,
Awoken in the dark; Afraid and alone,
Unaware of the walls that seem to stare,
Judging you; No, condemning you.
Frightened and lost as the throbbing pulses,
Curled up and screaming for God.
The darkness letting out a silent breath,
As spoiled minds lie in drunken stupor around you.
