The Addict

Sitting by the bedside table,

A light shines upon the pages

He writes words, barely able,

He talks about his cages.

He’s being dramatic,

He’s still at it,

Screaming with his pen,

This boy, barely ten.

He sits addicted to the words he writes,

Like an escape late in the night,

He longs for the coffin case,

The feel of deaths warm embrace.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s