He speaks in affection
Always biting his tongue
So his words leave his mouth
With a taste of blood
Instantly regretting decisions


Why so abrupt is his next sentence
Fuck I wish I could get a revision

Ever seen a grown man cry
Says the bottle to his wallet

It’s easy for a poor man to swallow
While letting emotions pour

Devouring the sanctity
Of a broken man

He speaks to reflections
Excepting this may be the last time
He talks to her

It’s hard to beg for a second chance
When your already on number 3

So he repeats
I’m sorry