''The Habit''

Like a junkie,this habit I must feed Searching,longing-for the next fix;where shall it lead? The soundtrack to my life:A sonnet to my death With each passing letter,I appreciate each and every breath Why is my smile not true,How can they not see it is so fake? Almost to much for my heart to take. Inside all I hear are their screams and shouts most are not mine and this I don't understand? Though I've given up control-this has to be part of his plan Why do I feel their pain,hear their deepest,darkest secrets that they would dare not share: At times it is a blessing but mostly so unfair. Maybe he gives that to me too feed the habit,so detox can not be Yet in still I have the sweats,shakes,delusions and I'm not sure what I see. But my habit is fed and fed well Sometimes my poison is Heaven-Sometimes my poison is Hell My muse is gone and my habit I feel creeping up my spine and all I hear from home is your doing great;just fine. If they only knew what it would take to make my hand to stop,it would have to be broken then too be ambidextrous for the painted word must be spoken. This is my habit-This is my drug,emotions upon my shoulders ,I dare not to shrug. I try to feed my habit and tonight it has been fed well to the top. My hand simply can't quit,it knows not when nor how to stop!