Empty Head

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Empty Head

My life is a mess,
I’m addicted to drugs.
I can never think straight,
my head’s full of bugs.

It’s a bad infestation,
no exterminator can clean.
I used to be a good guy,
but now I’ve turned mean.

I wish I could go back,
and start all over again
to get rid of this monkey,
who’s become my best friend.

I thought I was clever,
a really smart guy.
But now I can’t help feeling,
that I’m getting ready to die.

I’ve got my needle,
and also my spoon.
Now I’m on my way,
for a trip to the Moon.

I’m in the land of Nod,
what a wonderful place.
It’s just like being,
launched into space.

My life’s at the end,
there’s no turning back.
How in the hell,
did I get so far off track?

I can feel the Grim Reaper,
his hand’s on my head.
He’s shown me the way,
to the land of the dead.

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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

rcellsjr’s Poems (14)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Forgive me my love 0
A Winter's Journey 0
Mrs Right? 0
The Cancer Stick 0
Broken Child/Broken Adult 0
Childhood Lost 1
The Heroin Addict 1
Once I was normal 1
Empty Head 0
Memories of Jimmy 0
Do You Believe -3
The Persistence of Time -12
Innocence Lost 3
Time for you, Time for me 1