No Mercy, Just Morning
The glass was cold but never colder than me,
Smiling, detached, like it wasn’t my pain.
Said I was fine, said I was “just tipsy,”
But couldn’t feel joy – just the quiet strain.
I stumbled through rooms that felt like defeat,
No dancing, just drowning, invisible weight.
I laid where I fell, still drunk on repeat.
A hollow routine – wake up, medicate.
Truth tasted bitter – vodka and shame,
Ghosts in my inbox, unread and unkind.
Sunrise didn’t save me – it echoed the blame.
No pause, no mercy, just thoughts I’d rewind.
I dropped the bottle but carried the cost.
Still – I stayed. And reclaimed what I’d lost.
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