|
 Menu
|
|
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
|
Junkie Prayer
Contributed by
2bruisedandbeaten4you
on
Monday, 20th September 2004 @ 12:29:48 AM in AEST
Topic:
DarkPoetry
|
I am not who I used to be
I was happy and free
Now I feel trapped and caged
Sometimes sad, sometimes enraged
Angry at myself because I watched
They walked on and I lost
The respect and the name I used to uphold
That good name I sold
For a good time and better high
I think back and I sigh
Youth and the trouble it brings
I recollect and cringe
The cycle begins anew
Vision is askew
Things are different
Change scares me
The feeling does not bring glee
Only a different version of life
One filled with hatred and strife
What was so new and special and right
Has now faded to a forgotten night
I have such sorrow
I seem to envite
Pain and torment to follow me
A normal life is my plea
Make me wise and full of hope
Fill not my head with thoughts of dope
Or meth, or speed, or the wonders of coke
I’m so full I just want to choke
I can’t be the person I planned to be
I can’t live the life chosen for me
So I blaze a new trail
I write a whole new tale
One filled with experiences of every kind
And these memories fill my mind
And my inhibitions seem to bind
I look to the future with hope in my eyes
Hope that will soon die
No matter how hard I try
I will still cry
And wish for the past
For the present is too much
And the future will not last
So I look back at my life and sigh
Wonder why I didn’t do that
Chances missed and opportunities squandered
Far from the path I have wandered
Searching for hope
A purpose to be
And the more I see
The more complacent I become
And the days become glum
I realize that the older I grow
More of the disease starts to show
And then I know
That life is not all its cracked up to be
I more clearly see
The forest for the trees
And it brings me to my knees
In search for the cure
For that which I must endure
The air seems pure
But it is as soiled as the earth
On which I am chained
And one thought on me is ingrained
Seeze the day, that moment in time
Because the rest is covered in grime
Those times you treasure
Hoard up like gold
Because then you grow old
And the world starts to change
Pressures mount up
And things turn to *****
And pretty soon you’ve had enough of it
So I live to escape
The prison cell
My little slice of hell
And my soul I sell
To the urges I have
The impulses I feel
I escape for hours
As long as I can
I taste that freedom
And come up with a plan
To leave reality and live how I please
To shed my skin and this awful disease
Copyright ©
2bruisedandbeaten4you
... [
2004-09-20 00:29:48]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Junkie Prayer
(User Rating: 1 )
by luna_mica on
Monday, 20th September 2004 @ 02:17:46 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| nice. its really good. i like it. "great write." i like that "my little slice of hell" part. thats cool. eh. i hope youre doing well. laters. |
|
|
|
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
