She’s about to die, I can see it in her eyes,

she can’t possibly realize the potency of this drug, I shrug.

Can this all be a hoax driving me insane?

I’m trying to coax her throbbing pain.

Her eyes begin to roll back,

she overdosed with street crack,

and I can’t believe her angelic face I won’t see

as she drifts farther away from me.

She’s about to meet death face to face,

how could she fall from heaven’s Grace?

The drug burns through her veins,

she no longer feels sadness or pain,

just the confusion, like a contusion

clearly marked on her sweet face

the drug so quickly erased.

The life she once praised,

rejoiced in every phrase

So quickly fades away.

Her addiction to this white powder

Destroyed the beauty of this young flower.

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Shaketa Copelin's picture

This was quite sad, but sadly plenty lose their lives to this bullshit that's sellin' out on the streets. I enjoyed reading this poem...