Addiction Poems - Page 2

The power of addiction is a horrible disease.
You make think it relieves pressure,
Or bring pain to ease.

You will soon come to realize,
That you are so very wrong;
Whether it's after twelve lines,
Or eight hits from a bong.

It always starts with pot,
No matter how sure you are.
That's how it started for me,
And at twenty I was behind bars.

At times you may think,
That you can have a few drinks;
But a few turns into many,
And soon you'll be kissing the sink.

You lose some of your relatives,
And even more of your friends.
Before you see it coming,
This disease will bring your life to an end.

So after writing this poem,
I'm asking you now:
Do you still want to use,
Or make people proud?

Lost within the maze of my own mind,
Swimming in circles, trying to leave it all behind,
A mask in disguise trying to mask my demise.
Within the truth there are no lies.
Struggling to hold back the tears in my eyes.

Fighting to be free...
To be free from me
Empty, alone, and I afraid,
Locked inside my own cage,
I'm fighting my own rage.

Holding it all inside,
There's no place to run and hide.
Sometimes life alone isn't enough,
And it's wicked hard to call your own bluff.

Awaiting the future, yet molded to the past,
It's like having to downshift in order to pass.
Looking for a promise to numb the pain
And finding a promise without any gain.
Being lost and afraid inside your own brain
All alone and feeling insane.

Lost and broken inside and too hurt to cry,
My wings were clipped long before I could fly.
Living one big covered up lie,
I tip my head to the sky.
I scream into the silence and I scream WHY!
Screaming to let go of the pain,
Wondering if it's all in vain.
Am I screaming in silence
Or merely silently screaming again?

So many emotions, it's out of control.
What have I done? Have I sold my soul?

The price is steep, and there's nothing to gain.
But still I continue and expect to stay sane!

It gets you nowhere; it leaves nothing but shame!
What's it gonna take to give up this game?

I'm going through life at a very fast pace.
Missing out on so much and rarely showing my face.

I go and I go, leaving so much behind,
Looking for something that I'll never find!

I'm wasting my life, watching the years go by
All in the name of just getting high!

It sits on the razor's edge,
A tear, crimson within itself.
I sit there, constantly reminded of you.
This was our thing,
To be sullen and sleep together,
To be nothing but vomit and meth,

Saturating in this sunlight,
A vibrant relief for the fatigue that overdose brings.
You're getting clean, but I never will.
I've come to terms that I am nothing but lies.
I've come to terms with the tears
That come screaming out of my eyes
When I hold that needle to my veins.

Now I walk down the road,
Holding only myself as I remember it was once you.
You're in rehab, I hope.
I hope getting clean was worth losing me.
I hope you're happy living while I sit here and die,
Bit by bit as I pick at my arms
And light up every chance I get.

Two years ago I didn't know what weed was,
Much less chew and blow.
Yet here I am with a rolled up ten and a mirror.
I push the coke off and stare into my eyes.
Well, if you can call dark sockets eyes.
I scream at myself for being so stupid.
I break my needle and I throw the mirror.
The shatters sparkle as they fall to the floor like snow or sparkles.

I don't want to be clean, I just want more and more.
I don't care who I have to steal from or beat up.
I just want another line or another bowl.
I just want another day I don't throw up or cry.
I'm sick of standing in a puddle of bloody vomit soaked into my carpet.
No, I don't want to be clean, I want to more.
I want to take a shower and think,
I want to take a shower and let the stench of dope rush off with the water.
If it doesn't come off, I'll cut it out of my blood,
And let it sit on the edge of the razor.

This is my drowning,
my teeth sinking
into sour apples
and I’m not hiding

but I don’t need you
to tell me to stop picking
poison fruit. I need you
to tell me you know I’m strong,

to offer your arms as tender
until I discover on my own
that I no longer crave
the bite.