The stench lingers across the room.
It's two in the morning,
And I know just what he's up to.
Just drowning in the bottle again,
Again, and again, and again.
Because a routine is his friend,
When no one else is.
Though what kind of friend
Is one who wears you to shambles,
Who rips your body down,
Who contorts your soul around?
Because he's no
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