I hear them knocking again


I hear much banging, all too familiar in the middle of my blind rage of intoxication,
I know where from, old wounds stirring from the graveyard of my unforgotten
history, back again, looking hungrier, can't seem to chase them away as fast, not
when those old ghosts have gathered themselves as like before, awaiting upon
my stumbling down of failed hope, parked at some empty saloon meant catering
to one unfed soul of rejection, where drinks are always plentiful and me the fallen
victim left with this one black rainbow of addiction, whilst my entire life turned
even more upside down in a blink of an eye.

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This Poems Story

The bottle of life trapped inside the heart of a lost one