Another wooden box to fill
More motherless children to fit the bill
Do the survival benefits outweigh the losses
What are the actual costs
Another smoke, another sniff, another drink, no time to stop and think
one more needle in the arm or maybe between the toes, what’s the harm?
just one more,
but one more is too many and a thousand is never enough
you can never be too tough
no ability for them to consider us, we are just one more excuse to use to drown their sorrows.
or to ignore until “tomorrow”
when they’ll have more time
time to see the life they usually choose to leave.
with hopes of euphoria rather than memories of shame and grief
It doesn’t matter, It’s sneaky and progressive.
Is he alive and living in a slide just to get high, or is he alone in the gutter shoved to the side
Does she regret that last use, or was it worth her last breath, not able to say goodbye to her kids
What do THEY have left
How many more have to die?
I preferred it when they lied
How many more do we have to bury
the weight of the burden is getting too much to carry
They get the release; we get to stay and feel the pain from them being set free
free of the disease, but what they thought they wanted was the freedom from pain
while getting the chance to stay-now there’s nothing more for them to gain
If only they had one more chance, but It gets to decide who to battle, and who dies
There’s no fairness and no blame to be had,
only the casualties of the moms and the dads
It’s not about love, just about loss,
the loss of choices, choices to be better and to get better
there’s no cure, no real control
It has a mind of its own,
If we’re lucky It just leaves scars, but most often it takes lives
and chunks of time
It feeds off their hunger, their hunger for love-but not the good kind
the kind that feels like you’re being stabbed with seven knives
where removing them is just as deadly as leaving them in
In the end, no one wins
persistantlyhopeful 