a final release

Poetry is a drug,

An escape, an addiction and an illusion of emotion

A release 

Injecting words of poison in my stream

The immediate release of agony, I beam

My adrenaline has increased as I continue 

to my next line

All that is left is nothing but rhyme 

My stance has weakened

Fumble for aid but my scars have deepened 

Leaped in,

Yet the ink is left on my skin 

Poetic madness

Screams of sadness

I am left as an addict

Write me a ballad,

Inhale a metaphor that is valid

Hopefully yours will not involve 

Pills in attempt to devolve.

Poetry is a drug,

An escape, an addiction and an illusion of emotion

A final release.