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High As Can Be
Contributed by
blknwht
on
Thursday, 20th August 2015 @ 09:05:53 AM in AEST
Topic:
insomniac
|
I wanna be as high as high can be
Because where I'm at, I can't even smoke a lil weed
They took my smokes, they took my shoe strings
They took my belt...they took EVERYTHING
Now I'm stuck with no way out
72 hours ATLEAST beyond the shaddow of a doubt
It makes no sence, I came to them...
Never once said that I'd hurt myself or my friends
Come to find out as I check my file
That thse Doctors we're lying all of the while
They wrote that I said I was in fear for my life
What they should have wrote is I want to die by the knife...
But then we'd have TWO unture lines
Then they would think I truly wasn't fine
They want me to be honest, what did they expect?
If they aren't telling the truth, then how can I count on thier check?
It really doesn't matter now, for now I'm here
Fearing the unknown is nolonger my fear
But getting out is the new mission at hand
I just want to go back to my own home land.
I want to be high as high can be
Because where I'm at, I cannot be freed
Give me something to take me away
Maybe just then, I'll have a good day
Copyright ©
blknwht
... [
2015-08-20 09:05:53]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: High As Can Be
(User Rating: 1 )
by FireStarter on
Friday, 21st August 2015 @ 12:04:27 AM AEST
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a Message)
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| Its a great poem :) you had a couple misspells but sometimes we all feel like we need something that helps us go away |
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Re: High As Can Be
(User Rating: 1 )
by Archie on
Saturday, 22nd August 2015 @ 02:24:39 PM AEST
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I can relate to this. I was in the hospital for 50 days.
It gets better, you should be concentrating on that. |
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Re: High As Can Be
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Sunday, 23rd August 2015 @ 02:04:40 AM AEST
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a Message)
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I thought about this poem
and it reminds me of me
not just wherever I'd be
not just wherever I was
If someone stuck me in a place
I'd only want to get out
I'd always be me
Far far from perfect
Yet truth is
sometimes lost
And yes high
higher than a kite
like art
one maybe likes
but can't find a way to live with
iterations mysterious iterations
statistical nonsense
and the beach and the swallows
of Capistrano which takes place
every year on March 19th
St. Joseph's Day
The little birds arrive and build their little
mud nests
Who could ever write the perfect poem
something magically written just for
you
they wouldn't know any damn thing about you
you'd surmise
yeah, that would be me
I love it when people write the damn truth
they know
because it's the truth
I'd always felt
and it's perfectly free
keep writing and doing more stuff
surprise yourself, I can tell you should
because you have a very perfectly good mind
with which to do so!
And, go back later and read what you wrote after
some time has passed.
You got to roll roll roll...
Peace!
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