Is There Life After Meth?
Spitefully sailing so cynical with sadness,
Spiraling, shameful, infringement on madness,
So high, but not perceived from flying,
Floating through white clouds of crying.
Poisonous preying presence looming,
Rousing, erratic, irresistible glooming.
Not an orphan, but childhood family imminent,
Tracked to be driven out, loneliness permanent.
Reaffirming steal door attaching behind me,
A tangible reinforced reality finds thee.
Years wrecked, incinerated, nothing is left,
One question loiters, is there life after meth?
Evoking all misfortune, impossibly I hold my breath,
Pending release, would trade life directly for death.
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