Sweet Tooth

Immaterial, indiscreet, unfulfilling, yet so complete

Take another, take a seat, you might not ever move.

Drifting off into a trance, each time risking one last dance

Your subscription to addiction fueled by an unnecessary prescription.

Fading fast, yet time moves slow, never meant to last, so we let ourselves sink low

Incomplete, insatiable...all in some way, unnaturally disintegrating each and every day

So pop the pills, stop the pills, before you're set to lay

Use your will, restrain the thrill, before the kill gets its say.

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Welcome to PostPoems.

Stephen