Alana Collins
Writer and Poet
Druggies by the hour.
By Druggies by the hour
Night-walkers hence the time
Sadness in the streets
Violence heeds the crime
Crack, smack, heroin and weed
All grown from the same seed
A seed of melancholia
A seed of lost hope
A seed which tortures thee
As you find it harder to cope
Alcohol for the nerves
Beautiful horsderves
An escape from monotony
Weakness kills the soul
The ones who are happy
Without a waking thought
Those who are blessed
Those who have to be bought
It's all for a cause
And attempting to heal trouble
Feeling safe
In a organic, psychoactive bubble
Serotonin lack
Hedonism strikes back
Everyone's against you
Yack, yack, yack
You know what you do is wrong Your body believes you need it
The darkness inside you
And you're the one to feed it
Inescapable feelings
You are your downfall
But you head through life
Depression that you haul
But you continue
And beg for hope
Abusing yourself
Until inside a rope.
By Kyle.