Art of Bottles

One bottle, two bottle, three bottles

One row, two rows, three rows

One crate, two crates, three crates, all the way to seven

One shelf, two shelf, three shelves, one for each day of the week

Each shelf full of crates, with more needing to be added

Each crate full of bottles with colors dancing inside them

Each color an emotion

Sunny hues of yellow for happiness or joy

Blood red for anger, for hate, for annoyances

A baby’s blue for sadness

Dark sea blue for the anchors of depression

The black of the night sky for anxiety

Each bottle sealed with deadlocks as to never be opened

Expect for those sunny hues, as when it comes to painting

They are the outcasts

For one’s mind to paint the perfect breakdown

Hues of blood, of dark sea, of the night sky, and hues of a child’s bedroom

Are needed

The deadlocks slowly cracking, letting little wisps get through

Teasing you with a breakdown in front of the world

Torturing you through the day

In hope that you’ll learn to stop using the bottles

You don’t

So, the deadlocks shatter once your mind knows you’re alone

Painting the perfect breakdown in hope

Of teaching you your lesson

You fail to learn once again

Cleaning up the canvas

And bracing yourself to do this all again

Tomorrow night