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Sunday, 19 March 2017

Heroin Addicts

I'm sitting on this chair, facing the bedroom door
With my head in the clouds and my chin on the floor -
Eat bread and drink wine from the cup
If I don't come back down from going on up:
That fiery host would be my winner
Because of my life of being a sinner.
Coming back around, something the dealer said -
Yet even awake - I'm still with the dead.

He's the king of his castle - there's no doubt about that,
Lording it over everyone who enters his flat.
Draped in gold he thinks he's just fine
With his plush surroundings of silk and pine -
But he still wears that label - that label like mine.

Copyright Andrew Stevenson 18/03/2017

A sonnet.

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

2 comments:

  1. I think if we could remove those labels from our lives, we could set ourselves free.

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    Replies
    1. It's sad how labels can stick when a person has changed for the better. A greater label is one of having Christianly values and morals - sometimes a crime to criminals without the proper patience and understanding of a better trial for the better of knowing a mass of wisdom.

      Thank you for your kind comment. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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