Death Nears

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A person very close to me got into heavy drugs-it tore me apart and I felt helpless and distraught. The term "Frank" means crack-cocaine on the streets.

Submitted: October 12, 2007

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Submitted: October 12, 2007

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Hate me,  I don't care.
I'd rather you hate me if that helps you through the pain you bare.

So alone you must feel.
Your self-hate and pain stems so deep-it's tremendous and real.
But this is what you've chosen you say.
For so many years, this has been your way.

You're telling me to get lost.
Frank's your bestfriend; he rolls the dice you toss.

Go ahead and wait to die.
You are a coward.
You're sense of power and  strength is a shameful lie.

The sad truth is you're human waste.
People would die to see, walk and taste.


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