Addictions Poem by mike ruthenbeck

Addictions



The truest irony of all, perhaps,
In relating past, future, and present,
Is seeing the way the roads on the maps
All lead only to some random event
Where the content of initial torment
Relents to empty, idle musing
Of the sweet and pleasant segment that went
Infusing into a most confusing
Battle one was eternally losing
And shaping into the self; Becoming
The future, diffusing past, abusing
The herb's powerful forthcoming numbing.
The things one will want, from now until then,
Will change forever, again and again

Addictions
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: addiction,love and life
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
same old story here, just a bleeding heart poet with a functioning drug problem and a broken heart. the painting hints.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kelly Kurt 04 November 2015

I find that 'herb' is a wonderful mind opener. (When I can get a bit.) Thanks, Mike

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