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One night as I lay to rest
In my mind came a man from my past
It was my very own great grandfather
For a moment he was not a bother
Then I remembered he had died

The old man looked as good as he ever had
But his features looked tired and sad
He said “Hey Ashie, how’s life treating ya” as if nothing had changed
I looked at him and muttered, “I must be deranged”
We sat down on the porch of his now deceased wife’s home.

The weather and school and how much things had moved on
As he had passed when I was four, he was not sure if anything was wrong
He asked me if I loved life and when I said no
He shook his head too and fro
Marshall (that was his name) looked at me and whispered “don’t you know?”

Puzzled we looked each other in the eye
And he whispered, “Ever wondered what it’s like to die?”
“Of course it has all that crap they talk about like walking on clouds
But then there’s the part of living under a dirt mound. I miss living life on earth.”
I looked at my grandfather, with a tear rolling down my cheek.

As the topics went by, my grandfather looked at his wrist and checked the time
Standing, he said he had to go; a ray of light fell and began to shine
Suddenly, the scenery changed into that of a cemetery, at the end stood the casket
My grandfather opened the lid, silently, in he slid
I screamed, “Grandpa don’t go!”

I jolted awake and tears slid down my face
Slowly, I got on my knees and prayed
“Goddess, though he didn’t believe in you,
Thank you for taking my grandfather to a better place.”
I cried until sunrise.
This poem was for a class. I had to write a recollection of a realistic dream in poem form. I had dreamt my grandfather had come back from the dead....I miss him.
Do you see these scars on my arm?
I used to inflict pain, cause self harm.
Everything anyone had said to me was a lie
All I wanted was to bleed and die.

Then one day I woke up
and looked around, took a close-up
Realized I wanted to live
Too bad reality was so abrasive

Through the years
the depression progressed, reduced me to tears
I was empty inside
I felt I had already died

Then my friends came along
they picked me up, made me strong
I looked around, like hell had scorned [me]
Life had changed
I had reformed
Sitting against the wall
rising, beginning to fall
the substance is cooking
I truly hope no one is looking.

Filling the needle, to the very tip
Must not be wasteful, must not let it drip
Quickly, quickly, must find the vein
Insert it, relish in the pain.

Spinning, spiraling, dancing out of control
the monster under my bed just became real
the monster has my life, my every deal

Everyone watches me, haunting me
the walls are bleeding
the voices are telling me what to do
say goodbye, the new me is not the one you knew
To anyone who reads this, I have not now, nor have I ever abused, used or condoned drugs. However, I believe in marijuana to be something other than a so-called "harmful drug". This is only my opinion, but I have had no experience with recreational drugs or street drugs.

— The End —