Irate.

A sweet gentleman you could’ve been,

Then you said you need to drink.

Beer, whisky, vodka and gin,

There wasn’t a night you weren’t pink.

For each night I craved your kiss,

But all I got were your fists.

I have befriended a thousand glass shards,

When they pierced right through my heart.

Angered,

You tore down the wall,

Humored,

You sang through the hall.

The rage in you I always feared,

You were nonchalant when I teared.

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