Drugs The Downward Path Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

Just the wisp of a curl
Dropped across the deadened gaze
Unseeing comatose eyes unblinking
Taken by the acid pill to its lair
A place of high and hell
Immune to sense
Rushing headlong to destructions door
Pulsating veins
An overworked heart
In an instant wavering
Abnormal rhythms
Checked to stillness
Unseeing eyes hit the floor
No more to gaze upon the wayward curl
Only the blackness as the light went out
The curl is now a keepsake
Hung round her mothers neck
Sobbing her grief out over the grave
Just a remembrance
Never more a living curl