The noise from the television is occasionally disrupted by raster, the seemingly alive pixels of white and black burst forth from wherever they were hidden among the internal code
The clock on the wall sounds in time to each passing second, the minute hand creeping slowly, damned to its ceaseless rotation for the entirety of eternity
The glass of water sat upon the coffee table rapidly condensates, rivulets of water cascading down the sides are met with the hardwood of polished oak
The needle lies still in the palm of an outstretched hand, whispering words of tantalization and seduction, offering temporary immortality and blind assurance
The children sleep fitfully on their pallets, dreams of innocence and blissful ignorance dance throughout their heads, memories of a time once past
The moon rises cautiously, aware of what its luminescent rays will fall upon, apprehensive of the diluting corpse caressed by its radiant beam
The gaze of a small girl is obscured by dark red liquid, an external embodiment of the internal agony she experiences, a physical assault she cannot hope to thwart
The needle glints in the moonlight, a silent representation of mockery and foolishness, an evil that has once again succeeded in manipulating weak minds
The broken pieces of a piggy bank, a ceramic swine instilled in innumerable memories, torn apart by the endless need, the incessant crave
The sirens wail emphatically, a shrill cry to all those within hearing vicinity, a screech of warning that ruptures both the eardrum and the guise of tranquility
The morning arrives reluctantly; the television but a blank screen, the clock stilled as if time has ceased, what was once water has evaporated into a gaseous state
The cool chill of broken nights shiver through the spines of the children, the moon has returned to its solemn chamber in a petrified manner, a glare from silenced eyes renders the small girl immobile
Yet the needle remains, a symbol of what transpired, waiting patiently for its next victim, a relentless coil destroying the remnants of humanity

I love the personification and imagery in the poem. The use of vocabulary is amazing and the title is catchy!
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