Poetry Corner

On a bench, in the park
My mind, a place so dark.
I open up my coat, pull out a bag
Inside is something so horrible and vile.
I place it down on my leg
And all the while
I think to myself
Do I want to die tonight?
Is this how it ends?
I take the hard stuff
The D-R-U-G-S
Into my hands and
Pull out the lighter
My mouth meets the end
The flames explode the tip
I inhale.
It’s over.
The marijuana fills my lungs.
My life.
It’s over.
My parents.
They won’t be able to
Look me in the eye at family dinners.
Because I’m dead.
And you will be too.
If you ever try drugs
Even once.
Just say no!

I call that one: “8-year-old has to write a poem about drugs”


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