Life and The Bottle

He gazed at his soul through his empty bottle. He tipped it to his mouth, hoping for one last sip of serenity, But at the bottom of that bottle he saw the death of his dreams. His memories of who he truly was faded away with each drink. As the bottle became empty, he reflected on the moments leading to his death, With each drop of delicious poison passing down his throat. The air around him becoming thicker, his life passing by in his mind. Heavier and deeper incessantly he heaves Entering a realm of lies and deception directed toward himself. He wonders, what could he have done different? Been better, lived better, somehow be whole Accomplished goals, treated the ones he loved with tenderness, not hatred. But the hate is all he feels, the regret engulfs him Rage embroiled, infused, infecting his blood, He clenches his teeth as anger and sorrow filled tears stream from his lifeless eyes and down his face, He knows this is the end...one more sip. One more step into oblivion One foot in front of the other, he moves closer to ending his pain. When he brings the bottle to his lips, a final tear streams down his face, The mirror reflecting nothing but forgotten hopes, Nothing more than an empty frame. He glaces at the bottle, he realizes his time has past. His body relents and his soul dies. Soon his body shall follow...