On dangling strings he holds her life…
This woman who; once was my wife.
She belongs to him, that wears the hood,
The monkey on her back sits where he could,
Push the plunger that delivers the fix…
Behind them both, Death works the sticks.
She’s lost in the addiction that seals her fate,
Can no-one help? Is it too late?
As time goes by; she succumbs to the rush;
With passing moments there’s only a hush.
Until she’s ready; she’s stuck on those strings,
Seeing her this way…oh, the tears it brings.
If she’s lucky in time; she’ll break this cycle of life,
This woman who; Once… was my wife.
©1998 Paul (ChryWizard) Posney
Author's Notes/Comments:
I decided to add this note...
After writing this poem (a hour after) I mer a man known as the San Quentin Wizard, who drew a picture symbolizing this poem. It consisted of Death standing holding his scythe and sitting on the blade, was a beautiful woman, holding a syringe, about to do a shot of heroin, and on her back was a monkey helping her by pushing the plunger. At the bottom of the picture, was several poppy.flowers that the scythe blade is cutting off.
I mention this picture because when the picture was given to me, I was ask not to let anyone use the pic in a way that someone could use it as a tattoo. Which is why I didn't post it with the poem!, Recently, I suffered a fire that burned all my poetry I had written since I was in high school, including that picture. I CANT guess how many powma that was lost but I'm sure it measured in the thousands... anyway, I wanted to give credit to the that drew & gave me that picture...
