She smokes too many cigarettes, she
takes too many pills;
she tries her best to ease the pain,
but slowly her hearts being killed.

She awakens every morning, another
day of sorrow she'll face;
so she lights up a cigarette, pops
a few pills, in hopes of enduring her

When the pills take effect, as they
usually do, she feels much stronger then;
she's ready to simply get through the day,
without wishing her life would end.

For she can't seem to face the life
that she lives, the misery is too much
to bare;
and the only comfort she has is stored,
in a bottle of pills somewhere.

But she knows this is not the answer,
she's only covering up the pain;
like an umbrella on a stormy night,
that catches all of the rain.

Yet how would she ever be able to
survive, if she had to deal with her
she's not ready to work through the
pain on her own, let alone face another

Her past is filled with bad memories,
and the present is full of no hope;
so she takes another one of her pills,
her best friend, that helps her to cope.

by Ruth warren

Other poems of WARREN (149)

Comments (1)

i been where you are talking about... i live it everyday of my life. so long the days, and when insomnia rears it's ugly head - the nights are even longer. this is a wonderful write, i hope you don't feel this way, and if you do - know that others feel it too... you aren't alone. this is a 10. great work. poetry i believe is one of the best forms of therapy.