Delerium

A knife to the heart,
A gun to the head,
A needle in my arm,
Drink up my friends.

The girl is a jury,
The boy is a spy,
The night is a witness,
To where the sun dies

Give moon a fighting chance,
To spread the wings,
and join in our dance,
Hippies names are our romance.

The high is pretty,
So is the cry,
Flying from invoidable terror,
Cant the word restrain the fight?

With drugs I tremble,
and the names that I scream,
are one in the same,
with my own sick dream.

Reviews

[there is no more from m..]

cool poem its very deep and filled with emotion well done

[funeralmoon]

damn.. this one is a deep one. good job

[alan khan]

awesome last stanza and pretty well written piece overall. nice job.