Morphine
Pain is irrelevant. Numbness is what I feel. My apathetic mindset does not appeal to others but it’s all I know. Highs and lows are ancient now. It’s like they injected me with morphine.
All I can do is ask how? How or why, with what, which when is it dear? I’m near the finish line, it’s no lie I want to cross it. But my addiction to obsession makes a depression in me. Like a blade on a cutting board – my arm is not a cutting board.
So, unravel the syringe form my left hand. Hinge the door shut. Because I can’t extract emotion. No needle and thread can fix my head.
Take away your drugs, I’m done feeling nothing.
Please open up, anything – something.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.