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When I'm alone at night
Laying in my bed
The demons come out
Attach to my head
The voices whisper
Never knowing what they said
But every time
Fill me with overwhelming dread
My body only has evil fed
And all emotions have completely fled
My grey sight
Has just turned to red
And the rage takes over
Arms turn to bull dozers
Anybody in my path will be run over
I'm a *** addict
Popping perks
Like i gatta have it
Coke in my pocket
Gotta grab it
Your ******* throat
I gotta stab it
Living in poverty
Blinded by hate
Until i can't even see
That demon i hate is me
Deep inside it breathes
Blood it needs
And death it seeks

My cheeks turn red
My head starts to spin
My mouth opens up
No words appear
Constantly trembling in fear
Knowing my death is constantly near
Pills in my pocket
Take them with beer
Start shedding tears

I spit poison
My mind is toxic
My heart is frozen
Brain with no logic
Speak without a topic
My evil is atomic
Zoned out like im bionic
My life is chronically chaotic
And i smoke until im hypnotically psychotic
Stuck in a constant fight or flight
So much dark no hope for light
The darkness has taken over my eye sight
I'm a monster
Prepare for a fright
No bark all bight
And when i attack i come with all my might
Stuck in this eternal night
 May 2013 Sarah Gammon
Liam
At what point can I call myself a poet?

If I could fully articulate what and how I felt
  at the moment when I watched my mother
  slowly slip away from me and this world

If I could completely convey the oppressive sense of loss
  the helplessness, the hopelessness, the loneliness
  the shocking realization of irreversibility, the finality

If my words could make you feel the draining of my soul
  the relinquishment of having even an instant in the future
  when it seems that all is perfect in my world

If I could construct a phrase that could relate the emptiness
  behind the grief that comes with knowing that no longer would
  birthdays and holidays be wrapped in her joy and infectious spirit

If my poem could shout out to you the overwhelming regret
  that accompanies the inability to hold her, to kiss her, to say I'm sorry
  or to tell her just how very much I love her ever again

If I were truly able to do these things
  maybe then I could call myself a poet


                                 Happy Mother's Day, Mom
                                    I miss you & I love you!
                                            ****'s & ooo's
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