Get Your Premium Membership

Addicted

She sits alone most days most nights, perched in corner with her pipe smoking rock she holds on tight only to fade into the light of the flickering candle she burns so bright. For nightowl knows all is not right, can't find her way she won't fight so, death awaits her final flight perched in corner with her pipe that numbs all feelings that wrongs all right. Running scared into each day from Columbian Cowboys to collect a deed of laundered money, lust, and greed. So close the door the windows now, lock them tight, don't make a sound and creep around quietly if any should knock you, can't be to trusting in your spot. Now, let the tears build up til your weak in your knees, and keep on smoking to the wheeze, of the poison your pipe does breed.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs