My Stuff

My Stuff

Had some friends
Advise me to go
Said I been acting strange
Past week or so
First I declined
But then, I said alright
Signed into the group
For councelling night

This be my story
Of what I seen there
The faces of dismay
Eyes with blank stare
On every table
A box of tissues
For no real resolve
Of people's issues

Heads turned my way
As a man called on me
I had rehearsed already
What my words would be
From the chair I stood
Stated my name
Introducing myself
The reason I came

Voice solid
Straight to the point
I'm not into drugs
Nor hooked on a joint
It isn't the bottle
Or nicotine
But I am an addict
The worst you've seen

I had their attention
And so I sat down
Continued my speech
All intently bound
It's not depression
Getting to me
But I need my stuff
Or I'll go crazy

This isn't a story
Of a love gone bad
But if history you want
Now that I've had
When my hands get shaky
And break in a sweat
It not from gambling
Or placing a bet

I am an addict
No worse will you see
I need my Yeshua
I bet that sounds crazy

Ain't no cure
For what I got
Ain't no pill
Ain't no shot

So there it is
I was asked to leave
The condition I had
Nobody believed
Hey, that's cool
I'll find the door
For I neither the need
To look back any more

Cause there ain't no cure
For what I've got
Not a pill
Not a shot
I'm just an addict
The worst you've seen
Cause I need my Yeshua
If you know what I mean

Copyright © Becky K Martinson | Year Posted 2019

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