Sick of the blur;
The sobered obscure,
That sends me to drink;
That precarious brink;
Or anything to clear my mind,
Help me forget
What I've yet
To find
In search of the clarity
Once filtered through me;
When our natural high
Was embracing sorrowed skies,
Because just being together
Sheltered us
From the very worst
Of weather
Used to be I didn't need
The drink or weed to help me sleep;
When my natural high
Was the shine of your eyes
That held such potent power
Even in
Those soft,
Lazy hours
Now I avoid sobriety,
And don't give a damn about impropriety;
Cause I need that feeling
That you keep misleading;
Since my natural high died
When you and I
Tearfully said
Goodbye.
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About the Creator
Kylee Ellis
Kylee is a mother and student with an undying love for words and art.
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