Luggage its all to much, the need is
Burning me up, the powder the liquid
It fills me with joy. The thought of looking
After these that i,ve started to ignore is
Getting to much, I have to choose what
Is right that which I want so much.
What is that my heart disires , what my
Heart wants so much, my love eroded by
The needle by each ******* it numbs
My feelings till there isnt much.
Just one more, then my feeling will be clear,
My head full of confusion this will make
It all clear. I think a thought as i fade in to
Bliss, that I wish for my children, but now
Realisation that this was one is one too much.
A body now slowing, feelings fading, a last
Thought not of the high. But the children
I have let down over this accursed white
Dust. Fading in to terror as I realise to late
That I wanted the children, as a tear rolls
Down a cold face, my last thought is
I will miss my children so much.
This is something that happens to often be it fathers or mothers