It wasn't the pain nor the torture it was the elated
feelings running his mind making him think that he made it.
But he was lost in the illusion plucked from his confusion
Fucked up from the collection of drugs he was using.
He never saw colors, just the shades of grey,
That darkened his view made him evade the days.
Asked him whats wrong but he said he was okay,
but on the inside it was depression that decayed his brain.
He started out young blew lines at the age of twelve,
it was his personal section of hell where he dwelled.
But he never saw it as that he knew it alleviated
the pain in the back of his brain that he hated.
to him it wasn't a line of death, it was a fresh breath,
but no he wasn't finished yet, he just started smoking cess.
and just when he turned teenage he turned to smoking rocks,
on the back blocks, he played his game in the black stocks.
just to make a couple bucks while hes fucking others lives up,
but he was blinded by the hope that one day he'll make his mind up.
and either leave this life or just fade out of this existence,
whether or not to give up or just keep living.
when he turned to the needle he felt like he had enough,
but couldn't get out the game cause he had it rough.
he was another rugged animal in the cattle,
but he was driven by the drugs like a soldier to battle
just trying to get home but he couldn't grip the saddle,
so he hopped in his car headed straight for seattle.
but he took a pit stop in the old neighborhood,
where i saw him and i can say he wasn't looking very good.
i walked on over and asked if he was feeling alright,
he said 'im having trouble just trying to survive the nights'
i said to him he should try cleaning up his act,
and he turned to me and muttered as a matter of fact
'I'll give you a second, fuck it I'll give you a minute,
but time and space don't mean shit if the room ain't spinning.
I can tell yu i never thought I'd ever be addicted,
but look at me i just cant quit kid'
after that he took a drag of his cigarette,
hopped in his car just to figure out the bigger threat.
is his mind a worse weapon then the drugs he was using?
and are the pills doing anything to cover his bruises?
Then he drove off and dissapeared into the sunset,
but i saw in his eye it was clear he wasn't done yet.