Sobriety
A long hall awaits,
To enter sanity,
Welcomed by strife,
In all its vanity.
Cold sweats produce,
Products of imagination,
That condense in form,
Of sins exaggeration.
Steps to climb,
By sleeping with screams,
All hell has broke loose,
Within my dreams.
Shakes and trembles,
Of an addicts desire,
The poison of envy,
Are the keys I admire.
And paint the picture,
With my hair as the ink,
As I wash away the benevolence,
Down the kitchen sink.
Copyright © Justin Robbins | Year Posted 2011
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