Broken home

You know your pathetic.
And your intoxicated voice slurs.
Your mind clouds over
you fall again
and your knees burn and sting
blood soaks the rug
As you grab the bottle
the warth slides down your throat
It settles into your stomich
Comforting
it helps you forget
the name that causes you the most pain
the face, as perfict as the angels
it burns your eyes to look at his beauty
It breaks your heart to hear his voice
So you kill yourself over and over again
And try and smile as you cry
Remember
Till death do you part