My perspective is sinking
Between the ice and glass of my whisky-tea
Chemically different but with similar transparency
My fingers dance around the rim
Humming a low squeak and selfish need
This sometimes’ grin, melting with those frozen squares
Technically, you could call them cubes or dares
It always just sits, raining a ring
It wants me to think, again and again about that sip and its cover-lid
Keeping that little rounded line tucked and hid
For purposes of a higher virtue, I just do not transcend
I watch it swirl, evaporate, and finally descend
And the longer my mind drones, the more I recent
The decisions being made for which, I on myself, apparently can not depend
A million times over, it doesn’t ease
Till’ the only thing afloat is my peace of mind
And something resembling a beverage made of pekoe leaves
Does this make one worthy enough to appease?
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