Cup of Bitter Coffee.

You always liked your coffee black.

As black as the sleepless nights you spent contemplating your life.

As black as the self-doubt that has been creeping into your mind to shadow hope and confidence.

As black as your soulless eyes as you let the inner demons feed off your sparkle.

Now, you drink four warm cups a day just to keep breathing and pretend living.

Thinking that you are okay and everything is the same while wondering why people are leaving.

Not realising that the bitterness has coated your tongue

And contaminated every word you manage to spit

And that is all you will ever taste

And that your life is like

The warm cup in your

Lonely hands.

 

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