The most beautiful things aren't always good for me;
In this cause drugs.
He is a drug and I'm an addict
And without him I'm going crazy.
It's like a stab to my heart,
And a gunshot to my soul
And no amount of morphine will
Numb this pain.
This throbbing pain.
And I know full well it's not healthy,
Nor is it sane.
But like any drug
Once you've had a bit,
It's not hard to become addicted;
And it's so beautifully tragic how much of a drug
He is to me.
YOU ARE READING
poetic ventures
PoetryI create too much poetry to leave unwritten, so why not vent?
