Too busy with your stash
To have noticed the flash
Chemicals have fried your brain
You barely even remember your name
Just a crutch on which you rest
Unprepared for any kind of test
Craving yet another hit
It’s not even been a bit
And watching is killing me
It’s so rough to have to see
Every attempt has failed miserably
You just walk right back constantly
Lie, steal and cheat to get…
Whatever you can to feed the debt
A burden upon what little remains
I know you do it to drown your pain
Memories from your childhood
No moment of it was good
This has never been the answer
You could have been a dancer
Set the stage on fire
Instead you build a personal pyre
Stoke the flames for your demise
Oblivion is not a prize
A pit into which to sink
You rarely even truly blink
Just a shell that sits in place
Vacant look tattooed upon your face
Track marks up your limbs
You don’t notice any of these things
Soon you’ll have gone away
Be taken apart by the decay
Fall for the final time
Be nothing but a line
Name within a tragic book
Ended by your own hook
Simon A Jackson - Writer 