Empty, like a bottle

When I look at myself in the mirror,
after making out with some alcohol,
I can't help but hate what I have become.
A useless wretch stares back at me, haunted.
The monkey on my back, Satan's baboon,
whips me and beats me when I try to run.
The nothingness inside spreads like fire
consuming my will to survive past this.
I look at you and wonder sometimes why
you don't hate me the way I have deserved.
I've ruined my life, and yours along with it,
but you're still here by my side, loving me.
Chances given, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth,
seem as wasted as my ravaged body.
I do not know why I do what I do,
only that I cannot undo what's done.
Wretchedness perfumes my decaying state
and your love is the only thing that's pure.
Endless grace, like water to a parched tongue,
flowing over me from your outstretched hand,
washes the dirt from my battle scarred self.
I grasp for tomorrow, for my freedom
to be something more than a shattered shell.