you cry from your pretty eyes,
whilst the monsters fight within.
you pour a drink, what a surprise;
to the devil’s delight, he grins.

“you aren’t worthy of time and space”,
the devil laughs. again.
again –
you fall.
from grace.
shot after shot, glass after glass;
here it comes, the snake in the grass.

your heart is no concern at all,
so long as the bottles never fall.
each sip you take helps you forget;
each breath you take, a new regret.

you ache for the silence to start,
you reach – glass trembling – in the dark.
the devil pulls up his chair again,
whispers, “cheers, my loyal friend.”

cover the poison with a smile,
paint it bright, mask the vile.
dress the wounds, put on a show,
no one can know you’ve lost your glow.

a softer voice begins to grow.
it whispers, “you are not your pain;
dare to stand, though demons remain.”

wipe your tears, still feeling small –
but learn to rise, despite it all.
and as the devil fades from sight,
you pour the drink.

and choose the light.