Bottom of the bottle

A poem written about alcoholism.

Bottom of the Bottle

It's a cold dark place sitting in the bottom of this bottle.
My life pours away with every tall order.
First poured out my hopes and dreams
And next came my self respect
Followed with a pinch of green,
Well shaken in the glass.
The bottle wasn't nearly gone, so I ordered another round.
My happiness was next it seems,
Mixed with all my honesty,
Was bitter going down.
Next out were my memories,
I'm glad I could forget.
Gone with just a single shot,
Now there's nothing left.
Except I'm sitting here alone
Staring at the top,
As the bottle slowly tips,
Spinning to the ground.
Pieces shattered everywhere.
I hurt all I have loved,
But now I see what I have done
And stand upon my feet.
I slowly walk to the door
Scared of what I may find
Beyond the scarred, heavy door
I open it to find,
The light of a bright new future
With all that I have lost
Sitting upon a hill,
Difficult to climb
A long and winding, curving path
The only way up.
I start to climb it anyway,
Glad that I can see
All that I have lost,
Waiting there for me.