UNBROKEN CYCLE

She’s floating on smoke-filled clouds, in a memory of tranquility and peace.

Seconds that feel like minutes and minutes that feel like hours,

Yet her crucifying pain is lost.

Time has paused at a significant moment in one’s life.

Her woes are forgotten in a flashback to happier times, her rocking horse,

The odd smile and laughter.

Yet a burning sensation runs through her bloodstream, tightening its grip.

The rat in a cage is fearing no foe.

 

The unknown father has vanished, his footsteps have left no mark,

Yet the scars are crying out for forgiveness and pity’s sake.

A deathly cocktail is created, yet the habit has saturated a helpless soul.

Screams of despair are silenced, left to rot in a smackhead’s cauldron.

Death is hiding and expertly drawing his next curse,

Circling like a vulture, ready to pounce and rip open this empty carcass of life.

The demons take a pause to reflect; misery and pain will slowly be injected.

The next helpless victim awaits their sentence.

WARREN JONES

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