PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When it's all to much

I start to get shakey

I look to old friends

it's the habbit that breaks me

Stressed out and breaking down

I need to find relief

But relief only comes in cretain forms

Like pills,and powders or steel

I know that I don't need them

But need them or not I don't care

Just the sight intices me

One glance and I'm gone



Perfections the key

Gotta get it right

In any other order

It just wont feel as nice

You have to take the pills first

To feel the intamacy arise

Then it's on to powder lines

I'm on a high, "high on life"

Now I'm comming down

It doesn't feel so good

I feel sad, and so depressed

and shakey once again



Out comes the silver steel

The blade glinting in the light

Soft pale flesh parts at the tip

Little drops of blood drip



Now I feel complete

Or is this feeling just a glimps

of what my life could be like

if I no longer resorted to,

Powders, Pills and steel?

But what can I say, besides

Habbits die hard