High low

A Poem by Joey Martinez

Some people are using marijuana to disguise the demise.
Being high to rise over rock bottom thoughts.
Escaping depression but knowing they've been caught.
So called friends come together to smoke but when it's time to help an individual cope, they disappear.
Red eyes begin to clear and reality steers its way back towards your view.
No amount of weed can get you high enough to escape the truth.
Surrround yourself with people who truly worry and don't scurry when you run of out of weed.
Mental wounds don't bleed but they trap you in a state of delusion until you can't break free.
Nothing wrong with a friendly toke but don't choke with false friends and false hope.