sleep | poem

195 8 0
                                    

there are things
that you do not know

and things
you will never know

like how

every time
that i
take a drink

i die
a little
inside

and with each
puff of
the good stuff

i lose
a fragment
of my soul

and with
each
Wound
that i inflict
on my body
a small
part
of
Me
Leaves
-n.c

waste away | poetry & proseWhere stories live. Discover now