In the shadow of the evening, the bottle calls my name,
Its whisper soothing, like a friend without shame.
Promises of solace, a fleeting escape,
From troubles that linger, in a heart that breaks.
Each sip a moment, a respite from the pain,
Drowning sorrows in amber, seeking solace in vain.
The warmth it brings, a deceptive embrace,
Masking the truth, leaving scars on my face.
The night grows darker, as the bottle runs dry,
Left alone with my demons, I canât help but cry.
The comfort it gave, now a distant dream,
In the silence that follows, I silently scream.
Morning light breaks, with a heavy head,
Regret and sorrow, the words left unsaid.
The cycle continues, a never-ending fight,
Against the whispering bottle, in the dead of night.