by Ysabelle Moriarty

Another night
To do some harm
Another club stamp
On her arm.

Vodka, whisky
Rock n roll
Lets the music
Fill her soul.

Knows all the bands
Heard every song
Hit every club
But doesn’t belong.

She’ll drink to pass
Another day
And rock to keep
The pain at bay.

Ran from a mistake
Then made some more
Got lost, but failure
Still found her door.

But there’s VIP rooms
Drugs and sex
She’ll distract the singer
Between sets.

Doesn’t dwell
Can’t go back
Mix ecstasy
With old regret.

Keep your distance
To not get hurt
Try it all
Go berserk.

‘Cos mistakes won’t find you
In a bar
Where no one knows
Who you are.

One Friday night
It starts to rain
A syringe sticks out
From her vein.

The party’s pumpin’
Soundcheck done
The crowd’s all here
Well, all but one.

The alley’s cold
And so is she
Heroin’s latest

Will anyone ask
“Where’s whats-er-name?”
Will someone notice
She died of shame?

YsabelleMoriarty's picture

Wannabe writer, Procrastinating poet, Novelist with no idea,

Last updated March 19, 2011