empty bottle of vodka sits next to your bed as you lie and you think how you fucked it all up. A tear rolls down your cheek for all your missed opportunities, and how you could have made it right.The days where you swore and bashed and tore down the very little bit of dignity left in your children.
You lay all alone and wonder if you even matter to them. Another tear falls for the
embarrassment of a marriage you put your wife through. She only wanted to make you
happy but your inner anger wouldn't let that be enough. So you drove her crazy, and your
kids no longer see you. You take a long slow drag from your cigarette and think it could
have never been right, since your own lack of morality dissapeared long ago from the
humiliation and isolation your own mother put you through. So do you think history really
does repeat itself?
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