Her colors are black and blue
Shades of purple and yellow too
Her words are hot venom and violence
Unforgiving, and unknowing
Walking a liquid line
That comes from a can and a bottle
Her voice like her actions is a broken record
Watch her walk like an unstable marionette
Only driven by that next sip
Am I talking to her? Or the toxic fuel that she chokes down?
She’ll walk alone on her path of destruction
Rotting from the inside out
She’s a living corpse with soulless eyes
Barely there, how can she care
With all those scars, how could she?
Instead of caring she prays to the god of barley and hops
Hoping it will heal her even after
All the damage it has caused
The puppet has become the master
She’s passed out at the wheel
She cries for help, but slaps the hands away of all those who try
With that I’m afraid,
With that I know she’ll die.
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