Alcohol's Call

The lens, foggy, tells me its clear

Never satisfied, to Thirst I abide

Looking for cures and finding them near

Marking the firefly as a star further high

​

Cursed cures obtained so easy out of pain

Yes, Death is dressed in a doctor's robe

Diagnosing in vain, for body or brain

No plague so invades the entire globe

​

What paradox have our times become?

When destruction could in fact feel good?

Our very losses are seen a sum!

Not understood is wealth as it should

​

"Drink to drown," thinks the clown

Whose biggest joke is on himself

See him now: sinking down

In the abyss that sits on his shelf

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/wbw7sw/devil_runs_free/ii9m0ml/?context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/wbgl56/comment/ii7o890/?context=3