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High
Flying high,
high as a kite.
Inner cry,
just another bite.

So I'll roll another one
to fill the void.
To enjoy the fleeting fun,
light up the joint.

Alone with my addiction,
not material, it's the moments.
My life, work of fiction,
damned memories, powerful opponents.

So I'll roll another one,
to silence my head.
Fingers caressing the gun,
eyes bloodshot red.

Laughing loud,
high as a mountain.
Such a proud,
overflowing fountain.


© Darali May