So I continue to hurt myself
It’s no more then I deserve
I go back to my oldest friend
The drink, I could never swerve
I lost everyone that ever loved me
Chased away anyone that cared
I go back to the only thing I have,
The ugly drug to which I’m snared
I’m sick of following my dreams
Tired of reaching out for greater
I’ll ask them where they’re going
And catch up with them later
Some days I see a pool of blood
And imagine myself lying in it.
But I know, living in misery s*cks
Marginally less then dying in it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem