Junkie
I woke with a start
Scared and alone
I did not realize
The emptiness of my home
The artless walls
The rugless floor
The sheetless bed
The unloced door
I looked around
This place I dwell
Slowly revealed
A version of hell
Needle in hand
I inked down a line
My torture was over
Free my imprisoned mind
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.