Relapse season, let them in
In the palm of my hand
the devils best friend
Inside my mouth
i'll swallow dry
brand new pills under the same black sky
Clouding my eyes
once again
Pour butane down my throat
and burn me from within
I will smile
though they break my soul
I'll still hold on to the bottle
so i can feel whole.
YOU ARE READING
My Sweet Grave Digger
PoetryI use to have an anger so big, it could fill up any house. Poems from the garage attic.
