A broken bottle celebration
threatens to puncture
your worn thin heart
The dirty morning sun
illuminates the shattered pieces
of the night before
scattered across the
dawn drenched street
that you step over
with your hand held
to your head
that refuses to remember
as you stumble forward
in search of a cure
but all that you'll find
is a dirty bandage
a splintered crutch
that will let you continue
to hobble along
until the day it snaps
and spills you into
the repudiated gutter
where your revelry lies
disintegrated
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