so fast this facade falls
how quick you run
into your demise,
a full hand of a clenched fist
and another one besides,
death in blind doses
the syringe makes you play,
it distorts its cohorts
earning stupidity’s pity.
you slump a dead rest
wherever you drop,
just scenery for a sit-com
a still frame of a prop,
there’s no hope in your heart
nor clean thoughts in your head,
you gave up on everything
and chose a drug for the dead.
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