When you come home
I can’t help but cry.
You are high,
Yet once again.
You aren’t the same
When you
Are
This
Way
You stick that
Dirty
Nasty
Filthy
Needle into your arm.
Then you feel this
High
So
Pain
Free
And all it does
Is put me down
And repress me
And builts
My
Anger
Which eventually grows
Into pure hate
When will you see that
You are hurting your children
Hurting yourself
And making me cry
What
Will
It
Take?
If only you knew
How truly amazing
Life
Can
Be
And how each breath
Is worth living for the next one
How green the grass is
And how blue the sky weeps
How pure the children are
And how precious life is
What
Will
It
Take?
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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it will take everything...and nothing at all...just for her to open her eyes and see, which is the hardest thing for people to do
amazing poem
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