The Writer's Café

Poison flowing through my veins,
Scared of the walls closing in,
No one can ever break my chains
Before the night turns dawn again.


My only problem with this specific poem is I don't know whether to have it keep going, or leave it as is. Ideas?
 
It was only one fricking glass of brandy.
Big whoop, maybe a little incoherent, but I can type, talk and walk in a straight line. That consists sobriety.
 
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