The Chase


lost a depressed teen destined to be a drug fiend
struggling with how to cope, his best friend's name was Dope
obsessed with feeling numb, living on the street like a bum
stealing to survive,
getting high was the only thing keeping him alive
he loaded up one last syringe
shot was so potent his face began to cringe
heartbeat faded, eyes rolled back
water hit his feet, the drug began to attack
realizing this is it, he felt real lit
lights started to flicker, blood got thinner
skin turned white, far too numb to fight
help will be too late, this has to be fate
you learn to accept death when you're down to your last breath
pain hit his chest, it must be time to rest.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem