PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

shot into my veins

like a submachine gun

i've already lost

because the battle is won

mother, are you proud

of your bastard son?

too late for your prayers

because the damage is done

I found my hope

in a needle and spoon

I wouldnt be adicted

if it wouldnt leave so soon

I wanna crawl back

into my mother's wound

soon i'll spread my wings

from this filthy cacoon

but until my final hour

as a dieing breed

i'll burn away my garden

kill off my seeds

let my gravestone

be covered with weeds

and still you wont forget me

so for once i'll suceed

i'll be the poster child

for a drug free state

teach em' about jesus

and cover up your hate

under my picture

you'll write"Avoid at any rate"

but dont children become curious?

for them ,its too late

(the adiction is their fate)