Drugs
Words.
These words merely written on paper.
They do so much good for the soul.
They're something miraculous.
Like spun gold from the dull lead embedded in a wooden frame.
It become your safe haven.
You begin to scribbled until your bones are corroded with artheritis and your skin cracks and bleeds, because you need it.
It's like drugs. A fiction addicition.
You become so drowned in your own thoughts that what you thought was real slips away from you.
You begin to see things differently and you cringe at ignorance because you've bettered yourself through your addiction to literary diamonds.
These words, these treasures, these positive drugs, they become the beat in your heart.
And you hope and pray to anything that it won't be taken away from you.
Because not all drugs are bad.
Some are just red wine and liquid gold that we choose to ignore.
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