Getting high

Getting high

I started out just getting high,

But now I have too, just to get by

It kind of lost all of its sex-a-peal.

When it started to make me worship and kneel,

It just doesn’t feel like it used to feel.

It was a fantasy but now it’s quite real.

What used to make me laugh and shout,

Now fills my heart with dread and doubt.

Its one thing I can’t do without.

When morning comes, rain or shine,

I’m mixing it up right on time.

Sometimes my dealers late to arrive,

And I start to wonder how I’ll survive.

He said, “Mi amigo in thirty minutes we meet”.

“You know this shit is good, no one can compete.”

‘Yea, yea, muy bueno, just get here fast I’m sick!’

If I didn’t need his shit, I’d kick his ass, the prick.

But I’ll be nice, and wait my turn,

This is one bridge I just can’t burn.

Sometimes I wonder whose life this is,

A junkie’s son I was not born.

My family loves me but they are torn,

They just can’t watch me kill myself,

So they turn their backs and wait.

Twelve years just flew by,

Twelve years wasted, getting high.

I looked death right in the eye,

And made up my mind to stop getting high.

It’s been four clean years and many tears,

I’m still wobbly on my feet,

But now I can hold my head up high

To anyone I meet.

R. F. Sorrell

4/18/2014