Tears of joy will come to my eyes,
upon the eve my life is returned,
but now for weeks cold turkey,
during which my body from frustration is burned.
Help I do not need, I am strong,
My independence brings me along.
A road of pain they say I’ll walk,
Surely twill be better than my loss of mind on occasions too many to count.
I’m to be better off when coldness
is gone, my body being burned,
My insides twist like butter
being churned.
But the poppies grown in America’s south,
Their drug will never again reach my mouth,
for the pipe once used,
Is now too a burnt piece of wood.
Ciaran Quirke
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/opium-addiction-rehab-pains/
