there was no perfect poem
that would fix him
no arrangement of words
perfectly placed
he would come
to understand
I tried again and again
line after line,
rhyme after rhyme
he’d go back
to his drink
down further he’d sink
the drugs used
And continuously abuse
had to end one day
with death or finally put away
now he’s in his cell
and me
I’m on the outside
pen in hand
still writing
trying to find
the right words
the perfect rhyme
By Melissa Kelly
Published on Anti-Heroin Chic April, 2018
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