In depth poem about drug abuse, grief and death |
the white lady Oh beautiful lady, how she beguiles! Leads you on, with tender smiles, Softly caresses your waiting skin Without pain, as the needle goes in. Takes you up, higher and higher! Slowly flickering flame becomes fire, Running through the veins, Galloping like a horse without reins. Bringing that uncontrolled joy, For each sad and lonely lost boy, Dancing, whirling in body and brain, Take me now, her sweet refrain. Then she leaves without a goodbye, Leaving you high, leaving you dry, To come down, plunge the depths of despair, She's gone now, she doesn't care. Down, down, spiralling down in the bottomless pit, Feeling pain, lying down because unable to sit, Body shaking, every limb aching, crying out. Making you moan, groan, making you shout, Wanting her back, urgent yearning need. To feel her again, hungry to feed On her, surging warm through your blood, Needing her badly even though in the end it is no good. The way of this lady brings despair in the long, lonely night. The white lady gives but oh how she takes as her right! Your blood, your body, your soul and your mind. Her gift is so enticing, so sweetly given, but she is not kind. With continued use, she turns you from youth to old age Coldly, callously, with one quick turn of the page. She captures you, all the lost girls and boys And discards you quickly, like used toys To lie, lives shattered and broken, outcast. Needing her daily, hourly, waiting at last, For the date with death, the white lady so morose, For the final surge as the needle goes in - overdose. |