Sunday, 12 March 2017

Him To Himself

Waiting for the next mug, ‘I’ take some more of my wares.
An alter in the mirror, my former self looks back:
‘What do you want mate, heroin or crack?’
A brief smile as I am frowned upon – who cares?
I haven’t got a care about me,
So why in my heaven or hell should he?
He used to look handsome, look now what he’s got –
Bombed out crater sockets with eyes bloodshot.

He’s disgusted looking on.  Yeah, that’s me creating this mix,
I’ve had my pipes now I want my fix.
Up and down like a yo-yo, I’m going through the ride
Of the incoming and outgoing flow of drugs’ tide.
  If you’ll forgive my sins against you, then to you I will confide –
 Of my drawn in, pushed out sorrows of once had pride.

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

A sonnet.

I wrote this from a perspective, as I have an old friend who looks a former figure to his former-self! A shame. I see him from time to time, and have small conversations with him - I feel sorry for him.

'Drawn in, pushed out sorrows denotes using a needle to inject drugs!

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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