Long Drug addiction Poems
Long Drug addiction Poems. Below are the most popular long Drug addiction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drug addiction poems by poem length and keyword.
[Verse 1]
My blood is ice inside your veins
Crawling underneath my skin
The price we pay to earn that name
The battle that we never win
Falling faster far below
Further into darkest depths
The kiss of death that you bestow
The poison that is on your…lips
[Chorus]
Sweet seduction
Drug addiction
Words that only he can mend
Sweet seduction
My affliction
Rise to only meet the end
[Verse 2-change]
Your thoughts they plant a grave in me
Like missiles shooting through the skies
The pain you watch but never see
Crystals falling from my eyes
Your words they feel like razor blades
Your touch like acid on the skin
Your love this agonizing pain
The battle that I’ll never…win
[Chorus]
[Breakthrough]
Swallowed up by
Sounds of screaming
Asking questions
Without meaning
Fall away…
FADE AWAY!!!!
[Chorus]
Sweet seduction
Drug addiction
Words that only he can mend
Your destruction
My affliction
Rise to only meet the end
The end…
Bits and pieces of your heart and soul
bits and pieces, fillet and sautéed
for the sad amusement of cruel men with mindless erections
Who snicker and grin
as they lay you down on a bed of nails
Naked and anesthetized
for the purpose of insensate insemination
s and feces, from hearts without soul
s and feces, from cruel little boys, masquerading as men,
with pointless erections, who grimace and sin,
As they fornicate and fail
Naked and cautertized from the meaning of erotic sensations
And that is: sweet tender love and kindness
approximating Divineness
Which the sad woman is so longing for
and the little boy is running from
Fentanyl, and All
Grim Reapers, on call !!!
Dark days in the clutches of fentanyl,
have been your journey, your down fall !
Are you realizing the essence of its call ?
NOTHING will be left, NOTHING at all !
Many of your years, have been such a waste !,
as you reach out, towards an end, in such haste.
What is it, that we can do ?, for you,
to help you get past, to start anew.
It seems that there is but a sad view,
for us, who want to help you through.
That Beautiful little Girl !, who knew ?,
- what seeds ?, deep within, that grew
into this debilitating, destructive drug addiction -,
what it’d do to all who care, want your resurrection !
All we desire !, is for you to see the light !,
step out of the darkness, stand up and fight !
From drug addiction and death, take flight !
Look into a mirror, see, do what is right !
Help us all alleviate what is our fear !!!
Help us Daughter, help us my Dear !!!
B. J. “A ” 2
December 2nd 2015
…Before: DIZZY INDEED
Afflicted… ailing due to drug addiction
Bum he had become
Chained to conceit’s cage
Dysfunctional driven by delusion-dizziness…
-----Now: DIZZY NO MORE
Enveloped by God’s love enormously
Freed from addiction fall toward faith’s flight
Guarded with goodness grace
Hoisted along heavenly hope…
Instilled with the Saviour’ righteousness-imputation
Joyous new creation* he experiences midst jeering judgment
Kindness showing with Christ’s keeping
Love of the Lord sharing; leading others to His light.
*2Corinthians 5:17 Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
September 3, 2019
3rd place, "Bring a character to life" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux; judged on 9/7/2019.
Through life’s clenched jaw, I'm in awe of my accomplishments. The pain in my life has started to fade as I open the blinds and pull back the shades. I've been reaching into my core, allowing my heart to pour out onto each page. Soaring through my thoughts, I watch my depression rot and wither. Looking back at my past gives me shivers; I was once homeless, covered in grit and grime. Sweat dripped down my face as I felt so out of place in reality, watching my life seep away like quicksand. Life didn’t deal me the best hand. Coming from a broken home, substance abuse was all I knew. This was my pattern for years until I was ready to shift gears. In a hopeless state of mind, I cried out for help, not knowing how to cope with the feelings that festered inside me. Narcotics Anonymous became my guide— a guiding light to break these chains within my heart and soul. Drug addiction won't continue to take its toll. I was lost to a society that no longer saw me as a person but as a transient on the street, hooked on drugs and unsure where I would sleep. The person I used to be is gone. I was able to right my wrongs and forgive those who caused me harm—not for them, but for myself, so I could move on. Move on from this torment that held me hostage—hostage to my disease between my ears. It was time to stop living in fear. The ways I coped for ten years left me in a chokehold I couldn't break alone, but with my loved ones by my side, I realized this was a road I didn't have to walk alone. I’ve grown from the broken, neglected little girl inside me—sewn back my broken pieces. If you're fighting something deep inside, don't give up hope, and let your pain be your guide. I hope you cry every tear without fear of judgment because you're introducing yourself to healing when you allow yourself to start feeling. I was once told it’s a sign of weakness to be vulnerable. But they were wrong, so I'll keep singing this song. The song of my pain, my sorrow, hoping to give someone else hope to live till tomorrow. I refuse to be labeled as an addict or a lost cause. The jaws of this world haven't swallowed me whole yet. The fire is burning in my soul, and with the help of others, my heart is whole.
What they don’t tell You
What the recruiters tell you:
“Be all you can be.”
“An Army of one.”
“Fly high with the Air Force.”
“Join the Navy and see the world.”
“Be the best. Be a Marine.”
“Join the National Guard and get an education and keep your job.”
Things recruiters leave out:
Watching your friend(s) go home in body bag(s).
The dirt and sweat.
C rations, K rations, MRE’s.
PTSD, suicides, drug addiction.
Limbs lost. Traumatic brain injury.
Bloated, decomposing corpses.
Dead men, women and children.
Fear so intense you soil yourself.
Lice, sand, dust, cold, heat.
The stench of death.
Families torn apart.
Long road to rehab or death whichever comes first.
Sad but true
People are quick to judge, they see my tattoos, my personal art on a canvas of what was me before all the crap has drug me down to the deepest the depths, and yet I manage to always emerge from the pain, loss and heartache. The doc says I have PTSD and bipolar depression from it, although I somehow manage a smile to passersby even if it is fake, I attempt to make others days a little brighter. Drug addiction alcoholism couldn't even hold me down for long because I know I am better than that some days it's a struggle to force myself out of bed but in my head, I sing broken because I gather the shattered pieces and glue myself back together. Sad but true disturbed is my mind in my dreams just a little stronger every day. Purple haze smoke enters my lungs as I lay back listening to sitting on the dock of the bay wanting to be their pole and my toes in water, wondering what tomorrow holds!
He was raised by different indigenes,
After being embedded in specialized tissue,
Those moments were tough,
And in fact, it wasn`t easy for the mum,
Did you recall that point the dad was contemplating in hard times?
That was all about their child’s successfulness to arrive in a failing world,
Perhaps, the couples never stationed their class on dignation and confidence,
Because all over their positions were seen panic and indigence,
From the prime time of their worthiness,
The family had their story written on board of joy and gratefulness,
Effort opened door for the child to be learned,
The child was impelled to stay victorious bit by bit when knew she was grabbing a career she always altered,
Like a joke said by a drunkard, it was just a meep rimmed,
Panting untimely was due to dribbles from blowing wind,
New season arrived when the family got asserted to be placed on broken home,
Everyone had no choice than to feel alone,
Except the child who chose to climb the ladder before she broke her heart bone,
The ladder was “drug addiction life”,
It was “immoral life”’
Then what else?
“Desertion”, that was the significance of the ladder,
On a wrong path the child walked, joined a queue that laid a faulty hand making her a blunderer,
Who advocated a topic of caring for her?
Nobody searched for her whereabouts,
Since both parents were remarried, she was left in a drought,
It`s very sad, because her life turned into a bout,
After sojourning in vagrancy,
She was shot on the field of robbery,
And now her body is still in the morgue,
Whilst investigators inquire about what went wrong.
But who deserves the blame?
In so few years, he had helped many lives
In so little time, his family and his world caved in
He was a husband, father of four, and mentor to me
He had a measure of fame on the streets, and in the church
He wrote a book about the sad saga of drug addiction in Chicago*
Success, just over the horizon, was his payment for all the sacrifices
But a sinful secret was revealed as he dreamed and uttered his passion
A dear friend heard it and confronted him; His walls quickly fell, and I cried
10242017 PS Contest, 6 To 8-Melody Of Sadness, Nette Onclaud
*1973 Book title, White Black Man
As I sit here and silently wait, I can only think this isn't love, it must be hate.
I've been lost in your tantalizing charms,
and all I want to do is feel you in my arm.
When I close my eyes, nightmares only terrorize.
I wake in cold sweats, violent shakes, and with a heart that only knows how to break.
Best of friends we used to be, back when I was young, happy, and free.
Now it seems you only enjoy to hunt, taunt, and terrorize me.
I longed for you every moment,
I begged for you on bended knee.
I crave for you all the time.
God, please give me the strength to break free.
I'm sure there was a time before you and me.
Those days have been wiped from my memory.
I've heard people say there's no way to break free, that you'll eventually be the death of me.
I put my foot down here and now.
You will not hold my hand down into the ground.
You will not be the spade they use to dig my hole, or the dirt they cover me with when I'm done and cold.
I will live longer than just 33.
Meth, you will not be the death of me.