Poetry

I awake slowly to see
A bad man called Liquor.
I look at him as he sits beside me,
And he makes me feel sicker.

I look at him and I feel
His sharp blade ends,
Stinging the nerves of my teeth
When I became his friend.

I look at him and I think
Of last night when he put me to sleep.
All I wanted was just one drink
But he made me fall, like stones, in a heap.

I look at him and I crack,
I stand to pick him up.
I say 'Dear Liquor, you're not coming back,
I've had just about enough.'