drugaddiction

Learn more about other poetry terms

My conscious you:
    I Picture my veins             With little mouths,             and little eyes, with tears.             They have little teeth, 
Hey there old friend. Maybe friend isn’t the correct term, so allow me to rephrase. Hello old habit. You and me were best friends. We were the Thelma and Louise of our time and yes we flew over the cliff and plunged into the abyss.
It's inevitable that at some point in life, we all become cold, whether it's for a week or a lifetime, we become cold.    But what is being cold? Being cruel? Sad? Distant? It's subjective to each and every individual.   
Dizzy Izzy took a spill Down some stairs because of a pill She hit her head And had to stay in bed She cried for days  Because of her baes They never came to visit.
How are you just going to get up and leave like that? You're only seventeen, what are you gonna do with yourself now? You went from a child who tried in school to a girl smoking pot just to feel cool.
Frozen. Shivering. Shaking.Look at my reflection in the mirror.Scratch down my cheek to get rid of the Itch.Scratching. Twitching. Gnawing.Sweat dripping down my forehead.
I can not feel at ease with so much chaos over seas
I have a want inside meNot for anything in particularJust a want, a need, eating away inside me
A scruffy young man observes in the corner;
Get me out of this placeMy heart breaks like glassLet it shatter and it runs a different paceIt's messing with my head, one minute i'm with you now suddenly i'm hereWhen will this end?
Subscribe to drugaddiction