Medicating Away

They have their 'stuff'.
Once to gleam and buff up.
Sparkling under moonlight.
With their 'stuff',
Beaming.
Whether clouds appeared.
Or the Sun would shine.

And afford they can,
To live at the best address.
But they can not forget,
Or seem able to purchase...
That happiness they had,
With someone to regret...
Having kept ambitions,
Left behind.
That someone less interested,
In others to impress.
And desired to live life,
Basically without...
Medicating away the stress.
A stress maintained...
Enduring pretensions.
Until that game,
Played of Russian roulette...
Threatens one's life,
To end in certain death.
As if to request it.

They have their 'stuff'.
Fading under collected dust.
Rusting to leave it,
Eventually meaningless...
Forgettable 'trinkets'.

Yet,
What remains to stay...
Reminisced to wish,
Is that basic life...
With one to have known,
Is a value of it kept.
And a happiness shown.
Pretensions just can not buy.
Or numbed to be done,
Medicating away...
Missed wishes today,
From those yesterdays gone.
To no longer exist.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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