The Fire may not be my best poem, but of all of my poems it means the most to me.
I grew up around drugs, and the people who use them. I know very well the life associated with them. In the beginning it's true, it does calm and helps relieve stress. But after a while, the line between fiction and reality becomes blurred and there are only a few steps from pure insanity.
I would like to dedicate this poem to my Mom, who worked very hard to stop using drugs. I would also like to dedicate it to those people who got out and those still trying with all of their might to get out. May you all have the best of luck and never quit trying.
|by Jeremy Redinger|
I lay down in my comfortable bed,
feeling the pain deep in my heart.
I light a cigarette in hopes of comfort,
Tearing off the filter to get the full flavor.
I put it in my mouth and fall asleep.
I dreamed of dying in a blazing hell,
laying in my bed,
With the fire burning outside of me,
Trying to get in.
I didn't care,
The fire in my soul was worse,
Burning furiously at my heart to get out.
It hurt so bad I wanted to die.
All I needed was to talk,
but this got the job done.
All I know now is that this is the longest time I've ever slept,
I wonder when reality will come calling for me again.