Methods - Poem by Chris Newlash
There is no logic, no math, no rhyme.
A toxic path, time after time.
The glass will break and the ice will melt.
Drugs can't erase your pain that's felt.
The hurt will be back, and I will not.
Loneliness will: surround and haunt.
When you take your breath of meth
I can only wish you on your very best.
I'll never understand the song you whisper,
A crystal chime, a sinister figure.
Try to sleep now; become rested
As I leave, and brood your meth-head method.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Methods by Chris Newlash
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You