PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Weary and tired, clasping his heart by the string it dangles by it falls down and breaks. It shatters into so many pieces that its easier to just light up a cigarette and not worry about the remnants of what was once real. They say when something is worn out you should take back the old one and get a new one instead of repairing it, but theres no new hearts to be sold anywhere, so just try and pretend to have a heart for awhile and see how it goes. Take up an addiction that will likely make you suffer for many years to come, forget everyone else, they don't understand. I made this choice on my own for once, and its the only choice thats still entirely mine. If the heart no longer works, why should any of the other organs be treated with respect? Knowing that they suffer now more then ever gratifies me. Who cares about the consequences anymore, this moment is far more invigorating then you ever imagined and the intoxicating aroma of death is even pleasant. Who didn't expect this to happen, consider it family pressure I suppose, every one of my younger family members do it, some are dealers some are lords, Im the same scum as them aren't I? Why shouldn't I feel the same way even if its not real. I have no more integrity to stand up for whats right and wrong. Many people's views, and respect vary of me now because of this stick, this stick of cancer ruins old friendships that have just been rekindled, but I can make one mistake can't I? I screwed up and have been fighting with it for awhile so what. I don't care, I did it and it helped me free myself from the stress and now I am happy for long periods of time, no longer a tragic irony I am reborn as a nonsensical statement to prove the wrong in a right. I can slip a lot further then just this stick, so hold your disappointment until then because frankly, I've heard enough complaints about it anyways.