The below poem is not emo in any way, and merely the re-telling of the events of an event that I am not proud of and do not wish to ever do again, I do not wish any attention for this, and only needed to get it off of my chest.

Heart racing and pulse pounding
Staring at the pills in my hand
Could I really have done that?
A dozen seemed so insignificant

I try to sleep
To no avail
When suddenly like a brick
It hits

I'm perspiring and panting
Dropping to the floor
No concern but breathing
Inhaling has become my only obsession

Hand over wrist, feeling the pounding
It's no longer rhythmic
Now it's beome frantic
As a runner stretching for a finish line

I can't feel pain any more
Can't experience pleasure
The purpose has been served
And I collapse into a sleepless rest