She’s not a Drunk

The drink in her hand,

stands turning warm,

bitter rotten,

smelling of eggs,

maybe her breath,

she hasn't bathed since the vampires 

left the nest.

it could be one of those,

it could be her souls gone.

and the reddish drink fill her

 she cant stand it.

i guess she liked the empty

but she cant drink anymore.

the bottles almost gone,

its been drowned,

her souls back.

she's not a drunkard,

but her soul is back.

maybe the night just bring out her vampire,

they cut thru her mind

like vines clinging to the last

sordid past she so clearly never

wants to ever let go.

she's seen night after night

listening to those words again

over n over again

'you are a w***e my child,

the devils breaths you.’

"father forgive me for whatever i did,

i am not a w***e.

you cut your heart out when you left,

i am not a w***e."