Dying to Breath

Red lines burn with freedom.

Silver points open the pathways,

forcing acceptance,

pushing out the pulsing red,

dragging the pain into the light.

Lungs blackened with peace.

A red point of light guides their hand

pulling out oxygen,

burning deep in their chest,

their breath rattles with calm acceptance.

Throats searing with carefree laughter.

Amber tinted bottles clink,

creating joyful music,

the song of the broken youth,

you can,t wake us tomorrow.

These vices deteriorate our lives,

paying for happiness, peace, and freedom with years.

Die young and leave a pretty corpse they say,

but why must we die just to breath? 

Author's Note

Under constant revision, so any suggestions please let me know.

Reviews

[RAOrourke]

Vivid imagery is seen through your words. The price of ones vices is usually their demise..Great job!