my brother had a bottle of vodka, | 1 |
it was hidden in his closet, | 2 |
so i took some ice, | 3 |
and some green tea, | 4 |
and made myself a drink. | 5 |
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i took my pencil out of a drawer, | 6 |
and wrote a few alcohol-soaked words, | 7 |
about love and life, | 8 |
about hate and death, | 9 |
but no words could capture | 10 |
what i wanted to say. | 11 |
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my speech became slurred, | 12 |
but my pencil kept steady, | 13 |
and I composed a letter that never got mailed, | 14 |
she'll never see these words i wrote for her, | 15 |
and its not because i ran out of stamps. | 16 |
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