Poetry

Marks of Cain

Seven twisted souls lay with me in the night
Caress my lonely thoughts, whisper sweet delights
Dosing off as their seductive poison slowly spreads
Try to run, but weighed down by the liquid lead
Hopelessly scratch at the demons in my veins
On my arms and feet, I wear the marks of Cain
Seeing darkness as the poppy begins to flower
Creeping over and enclosing my mind in a bower

 

Continuing the drug related theme of ‘A New Reality’ but with my more familiar bleak and dark tones. Thought it would be interesting to have the two contrasting poems about the same subject.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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