Pretty Face, Bloodshot Eyes
Pretty face, bloodshot eyes
No one heard her mournful cry.
Strap around her arm, needle within
The breakdown of her mind begins.
She sees the pretty colors, but not the truth
She doesnt get that drugs hurt.
Pretty face, bloodshot eyes
No one heard her mournful cry.
Pop the pill to kill the pain
Then begin to go insane.
The drugs started to consume her
Not even her own family knew her.
Pretty face, bloodshot eyes
No one heard her mournful cry.
Dropped the acid in her room
Her hallucinations started soon.
As she lies on the dirty floor
She complains that she wants more.
Pretty face, bloodshot eyes
No one heard her mournful cry.
She wanders alone down the street
Looking for new dealers to meet.
Gets her money from selling her body
So she can buy her sanity.
Pretty face, bloodshot eyes
No one heard her mournful cry.
The drugs have become her; consumed her soul and mind.
She eventually curled up and died.
All she wanted was one good friend
But she died alone in the end.
Pretty face, bloodshot eyes
No one heard her mournful cry.
©2004-2009 ~GoAskAlice17
Details
Submitted: April 6, 2004
File Size: 1.5 KB
Image Size: 0 bytes
Resolution: 0×0
Comments: 22
Favourites & Collections: 10 [who?]
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Total: 130
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Submitted: April 6, 2004
File Size: 1.5 KB
Image Size: 0 bytes
Resolution: 0×0
Comments: 22
Favourites & Collections: 10 [who?]
Views
Total: 130
Today: 0
Downloads
Total: 38
Today: 0
Thumb
Author's Comments
I got inspired to write this poem after thinking of the book Go Ask Alice. This is the 2nd time I posted this, because some heartless bastard reported it, and claimed I stole it from them. WHICH I DIDNT! but anways, I hope you enjoy! byebye
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*Fare well fuck off come back on a better day sunburned and weary standing in the shade maybe in a week or 2 I'll stand in the sun with you*
-Sunburn-Breaking Ground-
~Michelle
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Clubs: *ArtistsforAnimals ~backyard-animalclub ~photo-smart *Zoo-photographers =Birds-Club *ARIZONA-Art-History
Death is but an Illusion
Awesome poem. Words were powerful.
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Per dimenticarsi da dove provenite, è di dimenticarsi chi siete.
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