Sniff, snort, swallow, gulp. Pills, powder, injections, smoke. Anything I can get my hands on to take my mind off of the evil and on to cope. My coping mechanism; drugs, alcohol, drugs, alcohol repeat everyday thinking it was a good idea. Less pain more gain. Fired! oh shit. one pint won't hurt. But it turned to 3,4,7,11 pints. Then the shots. Then the devils green goods. The pills, the blue liquid in bottle injected into my veins. Forget. Forget them. They don't need me. I just need my coping mechanism. Drugs. Alcohol. Drugs. Stop. No more. No more to handle just endless sleep that lasts...
YOU ARE READING
Death is like a dream...
PoetryPoems about suicide, anorexia, self-harm etc. trigger warning now before read as I don't want to be sued thanks ❤
