This is a rework of my previous poem. I feel I've learnt a bit since then.
There’s shattered glass inside of me,
Slashing at me from within,
So over it, I pour whiskey,
To clean the wounds and hide my sin.
The whores, booze, and poetry
Were my medicine for a while,
But the medicine no longer works,
It’s left me guilty, with no need for trial.
The cigarettes that soothe my throat
No longer make my head numb,
In the fight of life, I’m losing,
I’d rather just succumb.
The wind that fills my ears
Leaves my conscious clear and true.
So now I know that I must bid
My final solemn
Adieu