Addiction
Not as a friend but an enemy, you came.
Not as a comfort but a disease, you washed through
and won't leave.
Becoming a compulsion, you rob my soul -
Not just of physical,
but of the right to live
and love.
You never cease to remind me of your grip;
although everyday you hear of my hatred
of you.
Will you always be in the back of my mind?
Or will this finally be the release
I need?
Am I doomed for a short life of torture?
Or is this my last dance in fear
of death?
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