What was, What is.

What’s at the end of the glass? heartaches, regrets and sadness.
The wine, it clouds his judgments.
Sad and alone he sits, looking back on his life.
Is this what it’s come too, the end of the glass.
The sediments, the remains of his life that’s passed.

The things he’s left behind. The heartbreak, the sorrow.
Will the glass refill, this time tomorrow?
The tears, they drop, refilling his glass as he looks back on life, remembering the past.

The mistakes he has made, making life what it is.
As he takes a last sip, the wine tainting his lips.
Lifting the glass, he swallows the grape
Be it red, be it white, he cares none the less.
As he swallows it whole, getting drunk with regrets.

The glass, it stands empty, the half bottle remains.
But he looks to the future, is it worth it he asks?
There’s so much to live for, so much to gain.
Live life, live it full.
Leave that half bottle, don’t be a fool.

He takes up his pen, he shares with the world,
What was, it’s done.
What is. It’s who you become.


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