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596 · Jul 2015
oxy
Breanna Jul 2015
oxy
Oxycodone


My body feels light
But
My eyelids are heavy
My throat is tight
And my palms, sweaty.

My heart beats steady
But
Each one could be my last
I can't stay in this reality
I like My world made of glass
Because my baby, Oxycodone
Is an offer I can't pass.
She comforts me at last
And finally I grasp
It's not reality I fear

It's the person

In the mirror.

— The End —