The taste of ecstasy is sweet
but a high can make you low
lower than the streets
lower than the slums where street bums sleep
lower than the crumbs that these bums eat
and I’m just me
the least of these crooked eyed fools
who think they see
but we just sleep
in alleyways discreet
away from society
away from the weak
and surrounded by darkness we can’t think
we can’t blink
paranoid as we can be
as if we can see
through bloodshot eyes
and we can leave, but we can’t hide
we can grieve, but we can’t cry
it’s like our hearts don’t beat
but we can’t die
like the destiny of a man’s demise
who plans his crimes and stands on rhymes
so when he speaks he stands on pride
he deceives the times
he intrigues the eyes of so many young souls who pass him by
to understand his life full of sads and highs
cause either he’s in hell or he’s in heaven
don’t ask him why
he wears his disguise to mask his entity
lest they laugh enticed
by the greed and filth
that fills their hearts endlessly
while the seed of guilt can kill
a spark of life indefinitely
she is more than beautiful
it’s like she is his ecstasy.
I hope you like my poem. I’ve been through a lot lately and poetry is my only way to vent. I’ve been down since I was a juvenile so there is a chance I will get parole soon. I was hoping that maybe I could make some friends through this. You can email me through CorrLinks.com or the CorrLinks mobile app. Thanks for reading.
