Bottle

You took your first swig when you were too young.
Not young enough to be a considered a child,
But not old enough to vote.
You didn't really want to, but God gave you a mouth for a reason,
And  He gave you that insufferable need to fit in.
You sipped and it burned.
The taste burned at your throat and you wanted to gasp out in pain,
But you didn't, and you took another drink.
After the second bottle, it didn't hurt so much and you started to enjoy yourself.
People were smiling at you;
People never smile.
You felt accepted and wanted so you took one more.
And another.
And another.
You felt pleasantly dizzy now before falling to the floor in a fit of giggles.
No one helped you up, but you didn't care and that was all you needed,
To not care.
They grew out of it as the years passed but you didn't.
They could move on from the youthful reckless lifestyle, but you were stuck in a rut.
You chased your dreams away with a bottle of whiskey,
Kissed your ambition goodbye with a puff of smoke.
You're not accepted anymore but you don't care.
You have your beloved bottle and you need nothing more.