The Aching Cure

The cure feels like cuts

As the blood runs loud

But now it all feels like jeers

With echoes of all my vices

Envelope into a prison

Of what once was my escape

Where now a soul's hard to embrace

All these faces greeting cut across

Like vicious snares

What's driving your wheel

I'm a passenger along a vessel

Of perversely mysterious needs

Hard to teach calmness against my will

When I'm slumped, and the light greets

In blistering dazing blurs

And the night's another journey, baying for my blood

What's enough?

Not this love, not this mirror

An unkind giver

Seeds sown in greed,

These fields only have weeds to yield

With frantically travelling sight

But unconscious to where your heart roves

Too far from home, too far to wake

Breaths too thin to savor

Colored, courses of empty smoke

This hell that you tailor

Skins crushing your ribs

The suit won't abide

As it eats your frame

How long along this ugly game

How long along

It was once all so freeing....

About this poem

About the path of addiction.

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Written on May 21, 2022

Submitted by Banks_Cassablancas on September 15, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:04 min read

Quick analysis:

Scheme A X X X X X X X X X B X B X X X C C X X X A X C X C X X D D X X
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 986
Words 208
Stanzas 32
Stanza Lengths 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1

Samuel Koome

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