PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I wake in the middle of the night. Dead asleep.
I was feeling alright. My eyes I can barley keep,
open to even see the keyboard. Like a hoard,
Of zombies, my thoughts,
Are eating at my brain,
So I pop pills, and smoke pot.
I don't wanna hear you complain.
There's nothing wrong with me. I don't go to a pharmacy,
But I take my meds.
It helps me get to bed.
Might be by down fall, might be the reason I end up dead,
But I take it day by day, not thinking about when it takes my life away.
Why worry? Why stress?
I must confess, I'm not impressed,
With my life's decisions, I may have not had the best vision,
or outlook on life.
But It's my life I'm livin.
I'm just glad I pick up a pen or pencil, instead of a knife.