Wasted Lives Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Lives can be eye-opening when sitting in bars, filling themselves with liquor, beer and booze of different
varieties and color.
Testing their purpose and meaning in life, trying to
strive for a perfection that will never transpire while
alive.
Crying into their glasses, tears falling around them as
sorrow wells up from heart's memories, taking them down
roads of wasted years, drinking to drown their sorrows.
When leaving and going home, nothing has changed except they're drunker.