Easy Fix Poem by Wandering Biku

Easy Fix



It was the sort of feeling
I always drank on:
Frustration,
Banging my head against a wall
Screwing myself into a ball
Wanting to shout out, to get away,
To calm my mind, a need to relax.
The easy fix that always works.
Flushing myself through with poison
Washing what's inside away
To find myself in exquisite numbness.


Short term gain and long term pain.

Friday, October 2, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: alcohol
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