Poison Of Choice

My poison of choice
Is a bottle of doubt
Garnished with stares
And a self conscious pout

I'll drink it alone
And often as well
To erase harsh looks
In its bloody smell

So I'm tipsy from living
In a drunken old world
Where spirits are heaven
And morals are twirled

But drunk I am not
For my poison is fear
Topped off with fright
To rival all beer