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Poem 17
Drowning in a sea of whiskey.
Listening to the sound of the waves,
Enjoying his self torment.
The dock, his one temptation, was within sight,
Floating distance away.
"Drink up," it whispered to him.
"Drink up and I will be yours."
And drink he would,
Were he a better man.
Just the other day he'd drank it dry.
He had with the dock,
Because it was better than drinking alone.
The poisonous sea claims another victim.
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