the high

[Picture]

Eyes that look nowhere,
words that cannot speak,
the lungs now empty,
from the air that they seek.

looking up,
hell, I could be looking down.
So hard to tell,
when your feet can't find the ground

Tired of this madness,
in the prison of my creation.
but the mind can't escape,
the wanting of this sensation.

[manny2]

i think this is the poem you were talking about, i like it, those feelings are so true though really

[Pendragon]

The poem sounds like the cry of an addict. I cannot escape this, but I wish I could. Good poem.

[Sweets America]

The poem sounds like the cry of an addict. I cannot escape this, but I wish I could. Good poem.

I had sensed the same thing, I had felt that it sounded like the cry of an addict.

[Picture]

I had sensed the same thing, I had felt that it sounded like the cry of an addict.


It was written for an addict. Or about an addict. Maybe, it was to an addict? However you want to say it, it was about my brother many, many, years ago. He's much better now.;)