Internal Graffiti
The Pusher
Guilt and inspiration are both the same to me,
Hitting me in the form of cold chills,
And four moths of memories
I can't help but think about
The one who started all of this,
The one who picked me out of a busy store window,
And lured me in with a concert ticket
That was the very first night
It all felt so right,
So I went with it.
And now I'm making him famous
And he doesn't even realize it.
Everyone wants to know
Who that guy, with the special baggie is;
They want to know who put me in this hospital bed.
But he needs not to worry
He's my sweetest enemy
I will not blow his cover
He's the one who inspired this pain,
And finally set me free.
copyright (c) Dec.2008 Deanna Prall
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The Pusher
The Pusher