Just One More

His leg was draped across the favourite chair’s armrest

Head fell back in defeat, hair matted with sweat

One hand hung feebly beside, feeling the cold floor

The other fingers gripped the crystal glass tightly

Almost guarding it with whatever life he had in him

The pale coloured liquid doubling as like his life’s elixir

Faintly mumbling something, staring into a void

He then reached out for another, Just one more


She immensely liked the shiver; the cool thin metal gave her

It was ironic that her weakness made her feel strong

A chilling smile spread across her face as the memories reeled

Being the target of jokes, anger, humiliation and insecurity

She slowly and grandly lifted her choice of weapon

Just a few strokes and the scarlet streamlets coloured her bath

The tears tried to drive away the agony that swallowed her up

She consoled herself and said, Just one more


He was enraged, clenched and unclenched his fist

Held his head between the knees that wanted to give up

The clothes yelled out for help but no one listened

Trembling fingers ran through the unkempt unwashed hair

Lifting his head to expose the scared and blood-red eyes

He fought with urges with all his might till they took over

Vanquished, he reached out for the rolled piece of paper beside him

He validated each puff with, Just one more


Standing in front of the mirror, measuring tape around the slim waist

All she wanted was to look and feel beautiful, and thin

Disgusted by the picture that was reflecting on the spotless surface

She dropped the tape and took support of her meek arms

The long locks tumbled over her head, around her despondent existence

She let it all out, pools of her aspirations and heartfelt desires

They all accumulated, reminding her to stop, before going down the drain

Retching after every meal, convinced to do Just one more


They all embraced their darkness, with a hope to shrug it off

Feeling protected and miserable, bound within the grim clutches of addiction

He drank a little more with each passing night, seeking numbness

She made perfect little cuts on the pale canvas of skin, concealing the pain

He puffed during the waking hours, freeing his dreams, up with the smoke

She threw up a little more, hoping to inch towards the perfect figure

The merciless and icy fingers of their weakening strength, gripped them tighter

Bit by bit, their life trickled away, all in the excuse of just one more………