Poetry On Drugs

•Five•

Crackhead From Down The Road

There was this crackhead,
That everyone wanted dead,
Right down the road,
She would buy in a truckload,
Till the night ends.

One day I was feeling quite sad,
When she came to me probably mad,
Saying some story,
About someone who died from worry,
And how I should stop being gloomy.

I felt so down,
So to get rid of my frown,
I invited her in for coffee,
If she was free,
So she came into my home.

She was far from young,
And had a useless tongue,
For her words made little sense,
But they were still tense,
As she sipped her drink.

Finally I told her about a boy,
Who treated me like a child's toy,
She told me not to cry,
As she sang us both a drug lullaby,
So I decided to try to sing a line.

After that she would visit everyday,
And I started liking it this way,
For I wasn't alone,
Or on my own,
I always had a friend.

Until the dosage of the song,
Was calculated wrong,
They said her heart came to a stop,
And she was found by a cop,
Who came to take her that day.

Everyone cheered,
The crackhead they feared,
Will now be forgotten forever,
But I could never,
Forget my crackhead friend.