Lost,

in quiet reverie.

Lost,

in thoughts of you.

Lost,

the days of  innocents,

before we knew the truth.



You promised it would change one day.

The spike no longer needed.

Entitled by the things you stole

****'s fuzzy way of reason.



You stole from family, stole from friends

whoever you encountered.

To keep the poison in your veins

was all that ever mattered.



Though beatings, bullets, jail time

you never missed a beat.

Whenever she was singing

the needles call was sweet.



There is no moral to this tale

A families loss comes quickly

an officers knock upon the door

And final rights are given.