My Personal Rapture in My Poetry Slams

At first there was light
A little hope that shone bright
As I sat and pondered
Lost in thought and wondered
If it was just a bad day, a sad day

One became two
And two became a few
That’s when I knew
That I was fucking screwed

Rib cage to tail bone,
That’s why I get stoned
My discs rotting
Has me constantly hating
This life and all it has attached
Try and get detached
But it only goes so far
I still wish on falling stars

Nothing ever changes
These daily exchanges
Of pleasantries
Vocal toiletries
I’m sick of it
Not mentally fit
And I’m still here with a grin
Covering that space
That gaping hole filled with the smoke
Of a tightly packed bowl

Don’t walk a mile in my shoes
Not without the booze
You couldn’t make it out the door
I’ll stay here, laid out on the floor
Nothing but Pain’s whore

You have your whole life ahead of you
And while surely that is true
There is no comfort in the thought
That relief can’t be stolen or bought

Don’t look in my eyes
For fear you’ll spy
These demons of hurt laying inside
There is no upside

Run away,
Think twice,
Can you afford the price?