PoetrySad Poems


A world of capsules and bottles,
Coursing inside the veins their its sufferers.
Like a reduction of gas from a throttle,
It assassinates the virtue of the batterer.

I’m blameworthy of this shrewd deed,
As you also drink from the same poison chalices.
Lungs hurt, to starving our hearts bleed.
Craving towards the beginning of the end in rallies.

Obsession to the daily dose that hamper the road,
Making our pace becoming a snail.
Comforting in an unpleasant abode,
For to the reality of life, we fail.

I’m addicted
what about you?

Why not share?

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