Alcoholism

Steve Pearson Poetry

I am the thought that you shouldn’t speak
I am the glint in your eye
I crush the reason that would steer you away
I careen you to lead you awry.

I feed your dark core and corrupt your control
I reduce the extremity line
I throw open the doors of the morality zoo
I obscure the clamour to decline.

If your want becomes need I can readily lead
To ruin and coming undone
If your need begets hell I can easily tell
The end of depend has begun.

So drink, and allow me to live in your stead
I will be King of despair
You will be serf to your lack of self worth
You’re done, it’s over, you’re there.

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