Peer

from atop your chemical hill,

swallow your pills.

They will fill

the hole in your heart,

to end your day,

and to help the next one start.

Because it always does

and you always do

but not tomorrow.

You kept chasing the buzz

you had a drink or two

beside your white powders

and your poisons

so now you’ve passed just

a little too soon.

Your mother

will cherish your memory,

pill popper,

as she clears the empty bottles

from atop the dresser

in your room.

How will she sleep

at night?

How will her heart keep

from turning to stone?

Knowing she brought you

into this world

To suffer

And to give up the fight

before the end

and to die alone?

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