deepundergroundpoetry.com
Fetanyl
Fetanyl
The sick misfit swindling every last tidbit of my junkie minded emotionally blinded hope,
At this point I think my guardian angel is hooked on dope, because every time I pray to stop a day where needles aggressively poke my scarred and tired crooks of my arms, I get no answer and repeat this hellish pattern it’s been a decade in time even all my friends happened to die, I’m alone now unable to find a friend as loyal as the soft white powder of death, that 5 dollar bag of pure devilish relief, I can’t even sit infront of and speak to a loved one, because I’m no longer the one they love, hell I don’t even love the one I become, sleeping on dirty concrete stained with the blood of my hopes and dreams, only to help freeze my back to the cold lonesome street when the winter comes, which I grew to accustom on how to peel my skin up and off that dispicale excuse of my only bed, so I may ensue the hysteria just to not be sick, any little trick or scheme to feed the disease until my body decides it’s defied death from the posion flowing in and out of my veins all day and once again makes that concrete bed I claim not so bad, my mom wouldn’t even recognize me if she was here and I’m not so sad, I wouldn’t even want a long lost fear weather friend to, let alone the woman I was raised by for Fetanyl put all those memories and feelings for her on standby, maybe one day I’ll once again regain the brains I had to help refrain from giving in and coping with this pain with another fix for I’m so lost my sorrows could be melted down like black tar so strong the world could get high off my depression
The sick misfit swindling every last tidbit of my junkie minded emotionally blinded hope,
At this point I think my guardian angel is hooked on dope, because every time I pray to stop a day where needles aggressively poke my scarred and tired crooks of my arms, I get no answer and repeat this hellish pattern it’s been a decade in time even all my friends happened to die, I’m alone now unable to find a friend as loyal as the soft white powder of death, that 5 dollar bag of pure devilish relief, I can’t even sit infront of and speak to a loved one, because I’m no longer the one they love, hell I don’t even love the one I become, sleeping on dirty concrete stained with the blood of my hopes and dreams, only to help freeze my back to the cold lonesome street when the winter comes, which I grew to accustom on how to peel my skin up and off that dispicale excuse of my only bed, so I may ensue the hysteria just to not be sick, any little trick or scheme to feed the disease until my body decides it’s defied death from the posion flowing in and out of my veins all day and once again makes that concrete bed I claim not so bad, my mom wouldn’t even recognize me if she was here and I’m not so sad, I wouldn’t even want a long lost fear weather friend to, let alone the woman I was raised by for Fetanyl put all those memories and feelings for her on standby, maybe one day I’ll once again regain the brains I had to help refrain from giving in and coping with this pain with another fix for I’m so lost my sorrows could be melted down like black tar so strong the world could get high off my depression
Published 22nd Dec 2022
Author's Note
I am newly sober this is from a homeless perspective I recently had
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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26th Dec 2022 3:27pm
Congratulations on your enormous achievement, and welcome! You have a way with words... I detected some repeated sounds, rhymes, near-rhymes etc here, and look forward to reading more. I'd start by sorting out your punctuation and line breaks/ sorting your words into shorter stanzas, which will make it easier on the eye and very appealing to read.
27th Dec 2022 2:33am
Thank you I never was taught and I usually just preform it, I could use some advice
