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Puppet Master

You crept in like a mischievious thief.
Intrigued, decieved and retrieved my son.
Influencing and destroying his beautiful life.
Diminished his hopes, his dreams and his self-esteem.
Convincing him he had no future,
No love, no value was to his life.
Your wicked silk spun web of deadly lies,
Mislead him to believe,
That happiness and love cease to exist.
This is your fuel,
This your fire.
Your one and only desire.
You will not quit until they all expire.
Heroin, black, H or tar,
You are a seductive liar.
Your needle point claws buried deep his arm,
Dripping with your poisonous conceit.
Now you are his puppet master.
Dominating his mind, his thoughts and his words.
Your malicious acts preformed through him,
Make him look wild, insane and disturbed.
Each day in your tight intense grip,
My son dwindled and shriveled away.
Becoming your molded and trained apprentice.
Coached to perfection in your twisted ways.
You are as bad as a rapist,
A murderer and even more.
I hate you heroin!!
You started a war.
I will not let you win!
Let go of my loved and cherished son.
Let him live a full and beautiful life.
I surrender to you myself.
Volunteer my own life.
Take me instead,
Be my puppet master,
Enslave me,
And let my baby live.

L. Mack

Heroin does that to you...

Phone rings,
It's 1 a.m.
Private number.
I know what that means.
"Hello" I say.
His voice is shakey,
He chokes out the words.
"Mom, I just got arrested,
I'm going to jail."
I took a deep breath,
Giving me time to think
Of the right words to say.
"Ok, I love you.
Don't forget to tell them
That your gonna be sick."
Heroin does that to you...
"Mom, I should of listened to you.
I'm sorry.
Next time I will."
How many next times,
Thinking to myself.
I can't count how many times he's been arrested,
And sent to juvie or jail.
We both knew this time it would be prison.
Heroin does that to you...
"That's what you said last time.
But you just keep running back to it.
I know your sorry.
No matter what,
I will always love you.
I am holding you right now baby boy."
He cries even harder.
"Mom I'm scared of getting sick.
I really want a cigarette."
21 years old but he sounds like a 3 year old,
With a high pitched whine.
Heroin does that to you...
Last time I saw him he looked 35
And probably only weighed 110.
Arms scarred with needle marks
Infected sores throughout his body.
Smelled of sweat and dumpsters
Where he had been digging for food.
I barely recognized him.
Where had my son gone?
He couldn't look me in the eye.
Heroin does that to you...

L. Mack

True story
Amanda 3d
I wish you'd put as
Much effort into getting
Clean as getting dope
When I lost my excuses I gained results
Lewis Irwin Aug 20
She had eyes like a crater,
Innocent as any girl could be.
I think she had some bruises when I met her,
But it never seemed to deter me.

I chased her like a dog chasing tails,
Was only then I started to notice her dirty nails.
And then those Yellow eyes,
Blue and Yellow never look pretty to my mind.

She belled me with croaky breathes of air,
I rushed to her house shook and scared.
She was slumped against a wall with the choker she used to wear,
Strapped around her arm and specks of vomit in her hair.

She's got track marks like a craters,
Darkness lay dormant in her soul.
A once natural and elegant Beau,
Now alone in the world of Heroin and Blow.
Elisa Holly Aug 17
How long did you know I was blood in the water?

As I lie awake, I wonder all the things I missed.
How I was fooled when we kissed.
Every time you spoke of dreams they were hollow.
And my mind kept reeling in imaginary bliss.

How long did you know I was blood in the water?

I wonder if it was the way I bought into your embrace.
Staring each night at the silhouette of your face.
I took each word as proof.
But in the end, it was the truth.
I never really knew you.

How long did you know, I was blood in the water?

I remember this line that sunk into my soul.
You said you needed me to make you whole.
Like what you wanted to shoot through your veins.
I guess thats when I should have known.
You'd only bring me pain.

But all along...
You knew...

I was blood in the water.
Memoirs of dating an addict.
Mark tebbutt Aug 16
Why why why
Why have you taken every thing from me
I am a good person, i know I am
I hate what you do to me

Why why why
Why do I love you
Why do I need you
I hate what you do to me

Why why why
You seduced me when I didn’t want you
You stole my life
I hate what you do to me

Why why why
I hopelessly love you, I always will
You protect me.so warm
I hate what you do to me

Why why why
My friends told me, I ignored them
My family told me, I ignored them
Me and you knew best
I hate what you do to me

Why why why
I think you will always be with me
How could you not, I love you
I just hope
I hate what you do to me
Short poem about heroin use
Amanda Aug 12
Emptied yourself of emotions
Nothing remains but shadows and rain
Warmth inside diminishing
Numbness spreads throughout each vein

Used to be so alike
Hardly recognize you in this state
I am too fragile to withstand
Damage from the drug I hate

Despise you for letting it win
I see you surrender, can't speak
I get embarrassed loving someone
So selfish, careless, and weak.

I imagine I look pretty stupid
To those who saw the picture from afar
Cut the best parts of my heart out for you
To this day you keep them in a jar

Swallowed by powerful doubts
Choking on tears that pour
Sinking in confusion building
Frozen by longing for what we had before

Staring through hazy promises
Walking in a resentful fog
Alone, hollow, unable to let go
Shards of our relationship spell our epilogue

Litter floor with broken dreams and syringes
They cut, scream at me to turn around
Try and patch our injured hearts
They grow weaker with each pound

Yet we continue attempting
To repair the love we destroyed
I need to accept that you're no longer you
Where your soul once was there is now only a void
Heroin changes people into empty shells of their former selves
I live a breath's away from the oldest river in the world.
While I don't take much of nature in it is awe inspiring,
to be sure.
I live within the crook of the oldest mountains in our history.
Not the tallest,
nor the proudest,
but for now these ranges are growing senile within their misery.

The riverrun through it and exposes rock perhaps a billion years old.
Our oral histories, passed on legends,
scary stories and mountaineer folklore accounts for
such a small passage of time.
We built a bridge once.
It was at one time the longest single-span arch in the world.
Now it's the fourth.
Top five, and that's something for which I am proud.
The oldest river, in the world.
The oldest mountains, in the world.
The highest fatal overdose rate, in the States.

There is a beauty to be had here. Somewhat backwards, but
growing up our water was clear.
It's now choked from coal slurry.
The brain drain of young adults leaving, in much hurry,
hurts us as the ones that remain become grey and blurry.
We are living in a permanent winter and we have high roads,
that wind and curve. Dangerous when icy. veins filled with
heavy loads and nodding verve.
I live a breath's away from the oldest river in the entire world.
I can't touch Roman ruins with my hands, or
sift through the Dead Sea and float on salt above sand.
I can't touch the hill where Jesus may have died,
I don't know what it feels like to hold history as pride.
But our trees even when green have a dusty coal darkened sheen.
Summer is overgrowth from the Springtime rains.
The highest fatal overdose rate in the entire United States.

Where once we built bridges to close in the gap of travel.
We unzip black bags with rigs and object with obvious cavil.
Our industry is old, the world is moving on from coal.
For better, to be sure, but in the meantime we grow cold.
Not from lack of heat, we can boil our spoons just fine.
But we need a replacement from shaft or the mountaintop mine.
Let us worry about beauty again,
let us treat addiction with correction instead of levying it as sin.
Remove the pantomiming politician speak
of addicts or the sick as being weak.

Let's find ourselves again, West Virginia. You're the only home I've known.
Childhood summertimes sat beneath canopies of caterpillar home,
the happy baby butterflies eating leaves so more sun could shone.
Walking sticks used to play with me in my yard,
and at nighttime I'd still be outside mouth agape at the stars.
Evening meant lightning bugs and I'd capture a few in the cup of my hands.
There was a whimsy to how nature responded to us,
how bees would bumble and land,
on the dandelions whose seeds I'd spread as I blew on their white
polyp heads.
Maybe it's nostalgia and my memories are tinted rosy.
The smell of wood stoves burning in winter,
the crispness of autumn breezes felt cozy.
There was a trust held in communities, or maybe I was naïve.
Some of my friends made a choice and moved.
Others among us took a more permanent leave.
My brother, too. He himself got in a lot of trouble.
Over the cotton swab boiled to a bubble.
He died when I was young so maybe everybody is right.
It's all sentimentality and a lot of lonely nights.
But does the past being fucked up make the worsening now fine?

I live a breath's away from the oldest river and mountain range.
I live with the highest fatal overdose rate in the United States.
there's much debate as to whether the New River or the Appalachian/Blue Ridge/Allegheny mountains are, in fact, the oldest.
there is, however, no debate as to whether or not West Virginia (WV) holds the highest fatal overdose rate in the US

In 2010 WV held one of the highest fatal overdose rates,
By 2017 much of the country's overdose rates increased
WV's 2010 numbers are higher than 60% of the country's 2017 numbers,
and WV's 2017 are higher than everybody else's.

This is not to meant to take away the pain that's transcended broadly throughout the country. This is not meant to be diminishing, not even remotely, but it is meant to shine a solemn light.

I'm sorry for those of you that may know somebody who has passed on from drugs, or that may be currently struggling with their addictions. Whether it's opiates, alcohol, or prescriptions.
But let's try to remove some of the stigma surrounding addiction.

Forgive some stolen money.
Avoid gossip and rumor.
Reach out to somebody who may have fallen away from the crowd.
I'd much rather live with an addict than haunted by a ghost.

thank you for reading
TussyLambz Jul 25
Let me go
I know this road's not easy
It's not made to please me
I leave the rest behind
Watch the smile fade from her eyes  
I'm alone  
Many tries now my life is on the line  
And i got no phone
Questioning who am I- lost to time I'm off the throne
Just another rolling stone
Flowing far from home
This i know- Till i go
I want to be free
Locked in with disease
Put me on my knees
Looking for the key
Feel so empty on the inside
Take me then divide  
Struggle then I die
Pretend I'm alive; that's a lie
Let me vibe, let me look to find
All in books but not defined
Lost my lines looking for a sign
Looking for anything to change my mind
Chained to rhymes i try to grow
In a shrine or studio
Not new to flow
Few do know what i really mean
Stuck between
A rock and a hard place
Blocked in all space
Take a walk and fall on my face
listen here:
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