The Agony Of Ecstacy - Poem by Bernard Franklin
Alone down a squalid back alley,
how I wish I could change and go back,
to the normal existence I once had,
away from my sordid world of heroin and smack.
With no money for a fix, I robbed an old girl,
her purse and her pension I stole,
as she lay on the ground, not a thought did I give,
to the pain I had caused in her soul.
As I scour my arms, for a vein that’s not broke,
I’ve a needle I found in the street,
the liquid death in my blood, rushes round to my heart,
as I rock back and forth in my seat.
As the poison is pumped, to the base of my brain,
I’m oblivious to the world that’s outside,
I’m laid back and content, and at ease with myself,
enjoying this kaleidoscope of a ride.
The ecstasy of the trip, is short lived for sure,
for the real world I must once again face,
I’ve lost all that I had, there’s nobody left,
and my friends think I’m a bloody disgrace! .
As I come round from my trip, I feel sick to my core,
what have I done to my kids and my wife,
I’ve abandoned all hope, to the evil within,
and so have totally ruined my life.
I’d go to a clinic and eat cold turkey for lunch,
but I’m scared of their scalpels and blades,
for if they run a few tests on my blood they might find,
that I’ve given my whole family AIDS.
I remember the man, who gave me my first fix,
he said that the first one was free,
I thought I could take it or leave it at will,
but the poison and pain soon hooked me.
Now it’s me on the streets, selling drugs to young kids,
to feed the deep gnawing pain in my gut,
how I wish I could go back, to the life I once had,
and leave this destructive and dangerous rut.
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