Down To My Last Pack

I took a commemorative drive
Back to a town that glorified the wise
It was 500 miles and three packs of cigarettes
The crisp, burning sound embedded in my head

Endlessly deep trenches
That birthed my inflictions
Created character, said my intentions
To rise above, and destroy pretenses

I went passed those rusty, horrid gates
That allegedly guarded us and kept us safe
Then, I entered the palace, the core of my pain
Where the man stood, stoically and still bound in his chains

He was a deathly entity without any shame
But his smile was deceiving, as if he had changed
“This time” he said, “We won’t die” he tried to explain
But his eyes lied, and his tone was vain

The crisp, burning sound echoed as I left
The man, helpless and distressed
Became nothing more than a substance that
I won’t digest

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


MVP-Most Valuable Poet

Wow very personal
It's about being resilient and bettering your circumstances
Keep writing

MVP-Most Valuable Poet

thank you for sharing and promoting

takes courage to be honest and free

at the same time, it;s about embracing growth

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741