Poetry

My hero, His Heroin

by: Christa Jones

When we were young
he was the one,
Who was my hero,
big and bad,
He fought with all he had
to knock out that zero,
and as we grew
I thought I knew
which way the wind blew.

Without a doubt
he would take me out
to hang with friends
and show me how to blend.

Time went and he was gone.

I did not know
how trouble could grow
and before I knew it
he was all into it.

I did not know what to do
and I became blue.

He was not the same
he seemed to be insane.

He started with cocaine
and everyone else was to blame.
then like the wind,
He was into heroin.

My hero was gone
when the beast came along.

Lord please help him change his ways
before he sees the end of his days.

~Fin~

Click Here to read the short story companion piece to this poem.