deepundergroundpoetry.com
Siren's Song
Heroin is naught but a sirens song to me
singing of warm, forgetful peace –
so false and fleeting,
self-induced living death,
the Jones ever creeping.
Til none is left but a wretch,
shadow chasing.
A nightmare of my own contriving,
ever convinced of her beauty but never realizing –
it was just her song in my head
and not worth dying for.
singing of warm, forgetful peace –
so false and fleeting,
self-induced living death,
the Jones ever creeping.
Til none is left but a wretch,
shadow chasing.
A nightmare of my own contriving,
ever convinced of her beauty but never realizing –
it was just her song in my head
and not worth dying for.
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