And now the red ones make me fly.
The pills go down slowly.
The sip of vodka helps them along.
My head begins to spin,
As their magic takes me over
The world seems a much brighter place.
Not necessarily happier,
But much more pleasing.
A smile creeps across my face,
At the thought of the high,
That these little drugs of happiness,
Bring into my life.
And the blue ones help me fall.
As the pills from before
Begin to wear off,
The devil taunts me once again.
The next ones slip down my throat,
Slithering down like the snake
Tempting me for more.
These few bring
A different perspective.
Instead of high, it brings me down.
Not down to Earth, but much farther down,
Into a dark abyss, from which
I.C A N N O T. E S C A P E.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem