Six Inches

A poem I wrote a few years ago, not from personal experience, but from the point of view of someone looking at a drug addict.

Six inches.

As the needle draws closer,
and your hand begins to shake,
do you ever regret it?
All of your mistakes?

Five inches.

It comes closer to your skin,
which is now scarred and scabbed.
But you can’t stop it.
You want it too bad.

Four inches.

You’re empty inside,
so you pump your body full of heroin.
It will make you feel high.
And will sooth the pain within.

Three inches.

Your pain will soon be gone
Banished from your mind.
And when you find relief,
it will be sweeter than the finest wine

Two inches.

As the world around you spins,
And you forget about the pain,
You remember that you’ve added just a bit too much
But then you take aim.

One inch.

It’s almost over now.
You won’t have to worry about life anymore.
Because when you’re an addict,
they don’t care if you end up on the floor.

Zero inches.

When the drug hits your bloodstream,
and you take a deep breath,
you lie there still,
and wait for death.

Author's Note

Again, not from personal experience, also written when I was 14, so maybe a bit unclear in my message.

Reviews

[Jerome F Knox III pseud..]

Very well done...the descending order worked well...good work

[JTCM]

Thank you!

^^