The midget stood there with his smug little face,
acting as if he was hit in the butt by cupuids arrow.
Smiling and laughing and skipping about,
down the hall he goes.
There was a doctor at the the end of the hall,
he had on a white coat and had a sheepish grin.
The midget ran past him with glee,
into the padded room he went.
The doctor smiled as the morphine wore off,
the midgets smiles began fading
Locked in the midget was,
withdraws hit him as hard as rocks.
Smiles were radiant as the doctor watched,
hate was now all the midget felt.
Not the ecstacy he felt earlier,
not fear either.
YOU ARE READING
midget on morphine
PoetryI am not a poet but I wrote this for school and my teacher loved it.... if you like this give me some feedback and if I get some good followers I will start posting some of my short stories:)
