Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2018
The weight of my thoughts;
This “pain” that I feel;
I wonder how much of it
Truly, is real.

Neglecting my health;
I seek comfort in vices;
Like cannabis, or nicotine.
But at least I’m not a drunk.

Yet I find myself in pain;
Itching for a taste;
For a glimmer of solace.
Just a promise of peace.

What am I craving?
What am I yearning for?
So I can feel high?
Or because I’m just bored?

I need something.
The Whisper
Written by
The Whisper  24/M/Los Angeles
(24/M/Los Angeles)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems