Learn more about other poetry terms
My dad was murdered, it occured when I was seven, to him it was a filler but to me heroin is a killer. After he was gone, I went to, I managed to lie even as I cried.In a
Infamous flower- plushly petaled poppy your juice is a portal to perdition and pain... Brightly crimson or creamy China White, Do your partakers know that your embrace
Blood vessels and veins mesh beneath skin; violently violet Head and arms draped across the bathroom floor
Walls aren’t made of bricks Words aren’t made of shit I haven’t been sick this is never-ending bliss. tell Them thank you, please all those heads, shoulders, and knees
This is not a war story but one of victory. I can hear the freedom bells ring and my heart sings because once I was a captive now liberated by the King. But that’s just the thing I wasn’t always free.
What people fail to see is the chance to be free, The power to be more, the chance to open doors. Like a locked cage inside where the pain won’t subside,
Dear Jesse, don’t get high and stay in the sky. I thought about it more, and I realized it means don’t die.
I just wonder what he thought about when he shot up and it ended up killing him.
She grabbed her pearl beads And her room key Left her soul in agony Cold street corners Search for donors Empty handed she won’t be Empty hearted, possibly Dying slowly, audibly
Heroin Here and there, there and here, Whats left for me, because life's unfair. Kill myself as i push you away, Stab myself as my heart goes astray.
1. Community Member. 2. Bottom Shelf, but lower than that. 3. Secrets underneath the floorboards. 4. Not a hero nor a heroine . 5. Numb to headlines of “Ann Arbor Teen Dies…”
I can't grasp the concept of death; how someone can be here one moment and gone the next.I didn't think a fragile needle had the power to take the lifeof a man who fathered my cousin and had a wife.
There's velvet lining on a woven silk floor,mirrored ceilings, and I can't find the door.My peaceful palace, once plainly placate,was fearfully empty, everyone within did vacate.Though I too, tried to leave the room,
Use useless using user, Used by your abuser, Uses only to be used, The kind of clarity that leaves you confused. Tattoos made with stick and poke, But there’s no ink in needles filled with dope.
I knew someone with an addiction. It was a horrible conviction. He came in black and white color.
You ripped out my heart and threw it at my feet. You told me I lost my mind, that’s not really fair. You listened as it slowly thumped its last beat.
Where does the time go?
Full blown addiction is eating when you are hungry.
You are the beast that has slowly stolen my soul.
She stands on the corner, barely 18 Hasn't showered in days but waits Waits for a man who needs an illegal touch The body of an adolescent becomes tainted She looks for independence on an incredibly tight leash
Concerned hand Shoots up Riddled with Purple tracks along Vein’s corridors indicating Another kind of shooting Eyes glassy yet aware Functioning child Unknowing of what his
When you pass down the streets in Chicago, Cleveland, and Atlantic City, you see it in their eyes. They’re not yet sixteen, acting eighteen, Driving their moms up a wall when they don’t come home for supper.
He’s got long, gray, gnarly fingers like the branches of a dying tree,
two years ago,
Hero In Me>Heroin Me
Ha! Remember when you hit that blunt for breakfast that morning? You thought you were on cloud 9 until you found yourself hitting rock bottom by lunch.
Is it that easy? You shoot up, the pants come down. You get your money’s worth. I’ll leave the gain. Rusty lemon types, sour and boney. Like larvae, comfortable and worry-free. Days tick tick, living under a spell.
Living with this darkness. Always weighing me down. Thinking dark thoughts; wandering around this strange and lonely town. Can't get rid of this depression; seems like any hope I once held is coming to an end.
I am sitting here with a needle in my hand, the contents in it...
Running through my blood You are toxicity You are every part I have grown to hate about me From the beginning of time you brought only pain You flushed me of personality And chizeled at my brain
He’d always wondered where she kept her wings. And he questioned where she hid her horns. He could never find feathers on her boney, bare back and he couldn’t feel spikes
I see you, It clouds your mind, and you try to hide, what is inside. Attached to it, Can't let go, Refuse the help, The need has grown. You look at them,
Pearls--blackly luminescent--fade Under the burnt midnight oil’s parade. They burn clear Onto weakened corneas, thrown Into sharp relief
Music is my heroin. Headphones are my needles. Being able to drown you out is my highI dont tlk about my feelings. I do musical therapy. I feel better without talking.
The room is always dim, aside from the fog of creeping cancer, and over-priced incense. It bounces, it swirls, among the sad lamps (barely holding on), seeps from under locked doors.
Tears turn on like a broken faucet, droplets splashing on my hands and in my hair. He hasn't come home yet. His absence is fresh in the minds of his loved ones and all left with almost no more emotions to bear.
Deep moans drift in the room. Liquid hunger screams from my veins. Acid leaks from my lips. Agony drips from my head. I am wounded, and all I want is more. more of her to heal my pain,
Heart scripted sentences draw tears from the past Back slashed font bleeds ink through the page Its a matter of health. A matter of health.
Pretty little liar, in your pretty little attire, looking stressed and hot wired, we see through all your games.