I'm already an addict.
Can't you see?
The drugs I do are sick.
It's too late to save me.
They work like a catalyst
and give me a little extra speed.
The first time it hit, something clicked.
This substance can set me free.
It amazes some
and scares others.
I've been experimenting a ton.
It concerns my brothers.
I do it because it's fun,
although it makes my vision blur.
I feel like I could fly to the sun,
or I could run the acres.
Going into it, I had some fear.
Now, I truly know
that it's a help I should hold dear.
"C'mon, try it, we'll get some blow."
I see shit crystal clear
when I'm out of it, you know.
I don't care if they leer.
Drugs keep me from feeling low.
YOU ARE READING
No Wings
PoetryDedicated to Lund The sequel to "no halo." "I'm an angel, look at my face! Hell is not what I bring, I wanna help your case! I've lost my halo, and never had wings!" "No Wings" Beats (playlist): https://soundcloud.com/helllbitchonorinam/sets/nowings...
