Smoke, Drinks, And Medication

As a teen poem fantasizer, I dont have the smoking cigarette after cigarette until my finger nails are stained yellow, from all the toxins. But much like smokers, my lungs are filled with lies society, and peers have told me. And much like smokers, my lungs hurt when I breath. They hurt when I have tear after salty tear running down my cheeks, and my breath seems to vanish.

As a teen poem fantasizer, I dont have the Drinking bottle after bottle of the cheapest and highest alcohol content i can get my hands on. But much like drinkers, my stomach aches with the vile things I swallow from rumors, or what people think about me. And a lot like drinkers, I have way too much of everything that's good for me, until I'm addicted, and then It's my skin that they are underneath.

As a teen poem fantasizer, I don't have access to the pain relieving medication. Instead, I'm forced to push down this lump in my throat, and step lightly on this glass i walk on. Forced to keep quite and never wake up the sleeping independence with in me. With tape over my dry lips at 2am I cry as the fire in my soul gets a little weaker.

And as a teen poem fantasizer, I pray to the god I don't believe in that my breath blows away when I lie asleep. I hope that one day someone will read the fine print on these poems and see the drips of blood in between the painful notations.But people are ignorant, stupid, and hateful. And as the last poem i ever write, I just wish there was more alcohol in a bottle, and more pills to chase with it.