The Bottle

He sees it on the shelf
from the corner of his eye

he can almost smell its taste
an urge he must deny

he wonders  "what is wrong with me?'
it wasnt always this way

there was once a time when
he wasnt so easily persuade

things got rough  and he found comfort
where many so often  do

the lonley bottle on the shelf
crying out to you

but he must fight this feeling
it only causes pain

He must face his problems head on
 and his mind he must retrain

There will always be a bottle
calling out his name

but like times before
he wont react the same

so he turns away with a smile
this war has just begun

but he knows in the end
it will be a war  that he  had won

The Bottle:

so you turn away from me
does my foul juices not tempt your weary soul?

you can fight all you want
but i know i have a hold!

so you think you won the war, my friend
well my damage is already done

i caused a havac of a wreck
and believe me "it was fun"  :)