Drop It

September 22, 2010
By Anonymous

I watch you don copper locks to distract the sober from
your bloodshot ego. With your new diagnosis, you take
everything for granted, riding the highs on a cloud of
smoky kisses and the lows down deeper than the
scabbed scratches on your wrists. On the
weekends, you drop acid into your
dwindling pool of comrades,
confused when it
bubbles up and
evaporates.


The author's comments:
people don't understand, usually, how much their actions affect their lives until they hear it from someone else's mind.

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