In my BOOK I, I did a poetry on 'the addicted' as my lines of poetry revolved around a young guy named DESMOND. This is the link: https://steemit.com/poetry/@peterwrites/addiction-book-i-20171218t212052775z for proper understanding from the beginning of the story.
And here is his plight as I focused on the effect of addiction and the thoughts of the night.
Who would ever believe my dream,
It wasn't a dream of the night';
As my father would describe as a 'nightmare'
never was it!
Who would believe my plight,
When the man named ADDICTION, came in;
Armed with cords and chains
Like my fore fathers in the coastal areas
bounding a culprit in the village squad.
I was addicted to those white powders called cocaine,
I could gamble my last breathe, risking my life for death,
I have wished these addictions had never occurred to me.
It was life spent on pleasures,
All times I've enjoyed greatly,
The culture that ruined me, into the plight I'm into.
This time drawn by the spirit of ancient liquors;
Into a solitary arena,
A dark highland building.
Like the water-mill beating the darkness,
I've attempted to prevail against the sea whirl,
Wavering on my logged head
Loaded with baggage of addiction
All in one night at a time.
My first parents, my first friends and first fans;
Searched in for me,
In the midst of my dilemma
Voices echoing:
Barbaric, rejected, denounced, accursed, forsaken!!!
Where on earth would redemption find me?
Oh! heavens, certainly not in the dark doom.
©Peter Iyamah
PeterPen_Writes
PPW
Anticipate; ADDICTION (BOOK III) : IN THE MORNING
**ALL IMAGES USED IN THIS CONTENT WERE EXTRACTED FROM PIXABAY AND GOOGLE IMAGE PHOTOS**