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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Experience · #2234357
In a crack house waiting to score. I looked around and realized I had hit rock bottom.
“I'm better than this”
I lie to myself
As I look around
At faces so lost
Eyes telling stories
Of lives so wasted
Desperate contenders
Where winners become losers
Fighting unseen demons
The grinding wheels
That never stop turning
Until incarceration
Or indignation
Take the last remaining

No longer living
But the living dead
A death internal
The smiles so hollow
When he brings my need
So glad to leave
But I'll be back
That's a fact
Without a doubt

Wolves are baying at my door
The cycle set will not be broken
Cut asunder...till death do us part
That's just how it is
On the streets of meth

Dreams shall never be fulfilled
This demon sucks your breath away
Hard-earned that is lost so easily
Like taking candy from a baby
Give it up and all for what?
That fleeting feeling I once got
Was once so fun but now just habitual
The glass pipe has become my only ritual

On and on without a thought
For those who care...
The few remaining
Their tears are wasted
A crying shame
But who's to blame...
When the problem is you care too much
And I don't really care at all
© Copyright 2020 Dr Gonzo (neilfury at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2234357-Waiting-for-the-Man