One of those darn druggy poems

It hits my veins and turns to led
It strikes me down and leaves me dead

It picks me back up in a couple of days
But only then do I slip out of the haze

A clear glowing liquid runs through my arm
Self induced but did not mean any harm

A little bag of assorted colored pills hide under my bed
Patches and tabs of baked substance pound through my head

It washes away color soaked feelings
But drowns me and leaves me stuck on the ceiling

It makes my head burn
But helps the thoughts turn

It's tearing my stomach apart
It's digging cancerous holes into my heart

It makes me throw up every night
And it makes me scared to be in the light

It makes everything better
But it makes it all worse
It makes me feel higher than the weather
But takes me out in a hearse