Oh, the Circle I do weave
It leads to disaster, I do believe.
I take pills in the morning for pain
And yet there is nothing to be gained.
At night I want to take a hit
I want crack, just a little bit.
Just a little bit leads to more
I must see my dealer, I am out the door
My money is always gone.
It goes up in smoke or out my bong.
When the night is getting late
I realize it’s my life I hate.
Friends I have are very few
I find that only one is true.
I just hate it when I tweak
And I do it at least once a week.
Push, brillo and tube drives me mad
But how I need them, oh, how sad!
Down my lungs or up my nose
That is where my money goes.
I need it day in and I need it day out,
The endless cycle makes me want to shout,
“Oh, will this Circle ever stop?
Will I ever again be on top?
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Note from the author: This poem is public domain for all to use as they wish. Karma is hoping that a talented musician will create a song from it.
Karma, you may be gone, but your words will live forever. Love you.