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Concrete Bed

The sun is beating down upon my head
Still trying to sleep on my concrete bed
Angry birds are pecking down at my feet
Looking for a tiny morsel of food to eat

My sick head is pounding, I need a drink
Without it, I can't function, I can't think
My pockets are empty not a dime to my name
I'll have to go hustle for I haven't any shame

I'll beg and I'll plead for all your loose change
Not caring that I'm smelly or kind of strange
The only goal I have is to get one pint of gin
I'd sell my soul to the devil or commit any sin

Once I have that possession I'll be all right
Numbing my senses all throughout the night
No demons telling me I'm doing it wrong
For with my addiction my feeling is strong

My head may be wounded but my soul's still intact 
Just leave me alone, my heart has been attacked


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Comments

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  1. Date: 7/28/2014 9:18:00 PM

    This poem deserves some champagne!
  1. Date: 7/28/2014 9:12:00 PM

    This is EXCELLENT, sometimes I am at a loss for words, you have said this so well, and intentioned or not added a few sub meanings, superb write!

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