I put the killing thing
to my lips
and breathe
just breathe
in and out
and let it kill me
slowly, but surely
john green got it wrong
a metaphor is stupid
there's no power in tempting fate
let it be one way or another
(and didn't he die in the end, anyway?)
I let the poison roll down my throat
drowning my demons
(until they learn how to swim)
burning my insides
a pleasant burn
numbing me
I put another thing to my lips
and breathe
just breathe
but this smoke takes me
to a higher plane of existence
for a bit
and then I'm low
so low
missing my high
I sell myself
when I don't need to
I don't know why I do it
maybe I need to
I get no pleasure
from this
I sell powder
you call it coke
you call it crack
I don't take it
except in April
on the eighteenth
I hate the eighteenth
I sell it
and I have no regrets
even though I'm giving them
some way to die
I'm burned out
on all of this
and its killing me slowly
softly
quietly
I can't see it
but I can feel it
and I welcome death
with open arms
because they've told me
only the good die young
and the bad live to see
everyone else die around them
I'll die young
it'll make me good
and god won't tell me
I was bad
or maybe he will
and he'll cast me to Hell
and I'll scream out
as I burn and I melt and I suffer
"but hey, I died young"
doesn't that make me good?
or am I a monster
who died young
maybe
I don't know anymore
YOU ARE READING
BURN (Wattys2015?)
Poetry"Poetry...is thoughts that breathe and words that burn."--Thomas Gray "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." --Leonard Cohen Poems on the tough stuff in life. Poems on the crazy good stuff in li...
