My High by Christine Le

The powder that engulfs you,

The stuff that gives you shivers.

The, “No, I don’t want to!”

“But I’ll snort just one more sliver.”

The line across the table,

The dust within the bag,

The, “I can quit, I am able,”

“But if I do I’ll go mad!”

The numbing in the back of your throat,

That sweet, sweet after taste,

The fact that there’s no antidote,

The red look in your eyes, blazed.

The loss of feeling in your face,

The second line you snort,

The third, the fourth, the fifth, the eighth,

The, “Oh man, just one more..”

The powder that engulfs you,

The stuff that gives you shivers.

The, “No, I don’t want to!”

“But I’ll snort just one more sliver.”

The line across the table,

The dust within the bag,

The, “I can quit, I am able,”

“But if I do I’ll go mad!”

The peaking of your high,

The moment you come down,

The powder is on what you rely,

To banish away that frown.

The, “I’m on top of the world feeling,”

“And I’m never coming down!”

The, “I can take anything feeling,”

“Just give me my crown!”

Your body feels sleep deprived,

But you love it so much.

The floating sensation that derived,

And how you can’t get enough.

The powder that engulfs you,

The stuff that gives you shivers.

The, “No, I don’t want to!”

“But I’ll snort just one more sliver.”

The line across the table,

The dust within the bag,

The, “I can quit, I am able,”

“But if I do I’ll go mad!”

 

Christine Le is an aspiring 17 year old who wishes to one day become a somebody. She’s been writing since she was 12 years-old and has had one short story published in a book titled, “The Iron Horse.”

 

 

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