I am euphoric, I am analgesic, I am your friend.
I will make you feel better; I will change your life.
I am extracted from the from the opium of a scarlet red poppy.
I can give you a sense of warmth and well-being.
I’m not that bad, take another hit.
She takes me. I am heroin.
I am heroin; and I forgot to mention that there is another side to me.
I will take everything away from you. I will destroy lives around you. I will make you weaker and weaker and you will lose sense of who you are.
But don’t forget, I’m euphoric. I can make you feel good.
So, let’s forget all the bad stuff, why don’t you take another hit?
You have lost your children, but you have still got me, remember?
Ignore the doctors at the hospital, you have ages left to live and even if you don’t, if you take another dose, I will ease your pain anyway.
I will never, ever, leave you.
Mom, is that what it does to you? Does it make you feel better?