When the bottom of
your glass knows your name,
then you have run out
of places to hide your shame.
You thought that no one
had witnessed your downfall,
that they didn’t see you
on your knees when the
alcohol made you crawl.
Or the days you missed
work blaming a cold,
you never listened because
you didn’t like
what you were told.
Bloated and dirty
you have become,
ravaged by the booze
and the damage it has done.
When the bottom of your
glass knows your name
then you know your
number’s up in this game.

My fav are ur first four lines. Such a creative writer!
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Thanks.
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