A Pocket Full of Pills

We swing in circles round the violet tree,
And every time we swing, he whispers to me:
‘I’m in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts’
‘I’m in love with a fairytale, even though it’s killing me.’

Watch the rose fall apart,
Watch it slowly disintegrate.
Till it is as still as the night under desert winds.

Tears fall from his blue eyes,
Like rain falling from the blue sky.
‘Help me my doll’ he begs,
‘Help me win my princess!’
‘For she does not know even who I am,’
‘I am no prince; I have no crown,’
‘But still, she means the world to me ma’am.’

I put on a smile,
I promise him the world,
I wipe away his tears,
And hide my own.
He may be no prince; he may not see his crown,
His princess may not know whom he loves, whom he longs for,
But it even she knows it is not me.

‘Angel. Come here my doll’ he coos,
‘Let me see your face; let me see your soul.’
Lightly he runs his hands over my broken wings,
Softly he opens my eyes, until he can see straight into my soul,
Slowly he takes the crown from his head,
(The one he didn’t know he had)
And he gently passes it to her.
Gently he passes to his princess.
Cautiously he kisses my forehead,
Then in paranoia he leaves,
Hand in hand with her,
Leaving me…
The broken angel; the puppet; the doll…
His toy.

Slowly I collapse,
Like a falling snowflake,
Gently I fall to the dirty ground at the base of our violet tree.
Carefully I fall apart, letting the tears wash away my soul.

I do not watch from the prison of my mind.
Still, I see him walk to what was once me.
He holds the pieces of his crown in his shatters hands.
He kneels beside what I once was,
I watch him from far away, touch my cheek,
Whisper to what was once I
‘Look what she did my doll. Look what my princess can do.’
I see his tears falling faster than ever before.
‘My angel, help me!’ He begs
‘Help me put together my crown,’
‘Help me build my world again,’
‘So I can find another princess for me.’

Slowly I came back,
Back to what was once I,
Back to the prison that is me.
And I looked into his blue eyes,
I touched his cheek.
I kissed his forehead.
And I whispered,
‘Look just what you have done to me’

He looks up at me,
His eyes red with blood and tears.
‘My angel?’ he whispers, his fear dripping
Slowly I meet his dying eyes.
‘What did I do?’ his bloody scream rings through my ears.
Like the silver bells on a church long abandoned.

He lifts up his hand to cup my cheek.
I feel nothing as his hand slices through me…

Ring a ring of roses
A pocket full of pills
An addiction; a princess
We all fall down….

A Pocket Full of Pills

Emraldae

Melbourne, Australia

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

A poem about drug addiction from the point of view of a hallucination.

Artwork Comments

  • iloveyoumiss
  • Emraldae
  • SashaC
  • Emraldae
  • bloorain
  • Emraldae
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