So the drinking begins,
quickly for there is little to be spent
and much want for inebriation.
Trying to forget and once more,
the cycler appears,
racing down that familiar path.
She stops every now and then to listen
to words in her mind.
And up pops the cup!
Down pours the booze,
a sly awakening is in tune.
That familiar warmth, cheeks aglow,
forgetting is setting in
to defeat her foe.
Fertile with longing, relaxed in pain
they are the reasons
the bottle will drain.
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