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Rated: E · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #2237712
The dealers I knew didn't live a charmed life. Most sold only to support their own habit.
His life is fraught with peril
From every direction that he sees
Each knock on his door...
Or click on his phone
Paranoia is his wisest friend

Chasing dreams through darkened streets
And shaky ground below his feet
Friend to all, but close to none
Never giving it away for free

Knowing not to get attached
Temporary is his shadow's cloak
A pot of gold awaits our tardy friend
Take his promises with a pinch of salt

Looking through bars to see who cares
Glamour has lost its pretty shine
Now concrete and steel are his only friends
His only regret...getting caught for his crime


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