Meth Poem by Lamar Cole
Meth
As he was taking his last breath.
He thought whatever made him start doing crystal meth.
Things had gone wrong.
And he just didn't know how to be strong.
And now he was laying sick in bed.
And pretty soon he would be dead.
Friday, August 24, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: death,drugs,people
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5/2/2024 8:52:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Sickness drains energy and confidence, things gone is gone, but things ahead can be made right