Opium
What is faith but an opium,
A sweet dream of what is to come?
Put on airs of emotion,
and try to fake that you care.
Hold back the waves of the ocean,
And watch silently as your heart cracks open.
The eddies and whirls of time,
Will try to hide from you,
The ever effacing truth,
They tug at the silver threads,
Until the head drops and in creeps death.
Here lie the last remnants of friends,
Yet you are completely alone.
Silently still, your breaths creep,
In, out. In, out.
They sighing, whisper past your parched lips,
And as your groaning muscles surrender you to the blackness,
You begin to choke on the lies of your past,
Searching for something to grab,
A poppy, or blade of grass, to keep you from the brink of gleaming madness.
Eyes no longer function,
And you find solace in the old opium,
Sweet dreams of what is to come.