Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2019
Drugs, drastic doings and daily doses of suicide.

Do I do it for that feeling of self government?
That adrenaline rush; an engulfing sense of freedom and autonomy.
This is my body,
My lungs to inhale with, my mouth to swallow with and my nose to snort with.
I shouldn't be doing this,
I'm going to do this.
Why am I so ****** up?

Do I do it because I don't care?
'SMOKING KILLS' ,it says it on the box.
Every day I torture my lungs, suffocating them,
Smothering them, smouldering them.
Every inhalation bringing me closer to death.
This thought is not a deterrence but a mere acceptance.
The more I allow myself to be a slave to my plotting and unsubtle murderer, the less I care.
Why am I so ****** up?

Do I do it because its an act or rebellion?
Look at me, I'm doing something you don't approve of,
I'm going to make you angry.
With my misdirected strength and determination,
I'm going to tear down the walls that are your rules.
This feeling of disobedience, it's addictive.
Why am I so ****** up?
So many reasons, so many people, so many ****** up things.
Georgina Sharma
Written by
Georgina Sharma  17/F/UK
(17/F/UK)   
564
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems