I sway to the chatter of trees and whispers of the breeze Drowning my therapy as it counselled my nerves of distress I trip into the embrace of the ground and hover painfully near a puddle As I look at my reflection, a total drunk mess
As the lightning snapped the silence and the rain swam laps in my hair I hold my bottle like a trophy towards the sky Now my body feels more free as the Boulder of burdens go a flee My nerves make love to the poison as I cry
The bottle goes empty, and it lays shattered like my dreams I close my eyes and sing along with the breeze Then my mind stops running to Hell and gets pampered by tales of fantasy I look again at the puddle to see that I am wasted and free
— Nanda Regine
From "Inside Her Roses"
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