Bad Seed

Thumping in her lungs,

it will never be enough.

One more after one more,

never knowing what for.

She is a bad seed,

for she smokes weed.

Now that is her life,

she does not know why.

When there is none to smoke,

when she has no dope,

it's bottle after bottle,

becoming unsteady, starting to wobble.

She cannot stay sober from the pain,

no matter how happy she looks, she is not sane.

This life is consuming her now,

she cannot make it out.

Reviews

[Jordan Bryant]

I really enjoy the way bottle and wobble rhyme. I think you could play with rhymes and different kinds of rhymes more in this poem.