Compassionate Abuse

May 10, 2011
By Anonymous

Pupils small as needles,
Gazed up, cradled in blackberry irises.
And he doesn’t even realize,
He is diving head first into his grave.

Like a mother, it caresses him.
He lets it, too, gratefully.
And he is completely unaware,
He’s somersaulting off a cliff.

Flames lick glass with determination.
It’s his life support, his necessity.
And he is oblivious towards the fact,
That he is jumping off a bridge.

Like a threatening voice, it beckons him.
Forces him to soar through chemical clouds.
He is completely hooked,
And damn, does he know it.

The author's comments:
drug abuse.

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