Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
The lighter's a trigger,
I load my gun
& swallow the bullets
straight into my lungs

With every drag
& hit I take,
my thoughtless mind
will come awake

No more mother's coming
or more of daddy crying
Just coughing & heaving
& careless flying

I guess it's living,
I guess I'm dying,
& if I'm not,
I'm surely trying
Emily Rene
Written by
Emily Rene  20/F/Ohio
   Devon Webb
Please log in to view and add comments on poems