Sinking deep,
in what we call this high misery,
find some place,
sit there all alone,
you know you want to jump from this cliff,
stop this partying life.
You are sick of it.
You love it.
What the fuck have you done?
What would daddy say, if he saw you like this?
He would yell fuck-up.
Write it as your name.
Call your addiction to it's peek,
now run downhill,
feel the streak,
break this sweat.
Sink in this hell
YOU ARE READING
My Monster
PoetryHer name was Skylar. And she was addicted. Her substance: Meth/Crank/Glass... whatever you call it, it still screws you up in more ways than one. But after seventeen years of trying to be Ms.Perfect in an unstable family, is this really what she wan...
