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“Control”

The man looked deep into himself,

 

He saw a man with no control.

 

If a drink passed his eyes,

 

Or a joint passed his nose,

 

And he crumbles under pressure.

 

The man knew he had to stop,

 

But the temptations continued.

 

The day he quit, he duly celebrated,

 

With a special story he just wrote.

 

He kept writing and found a new vice.

 

His writing was his drugs,

 

And he was stuck again.

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Written by
ryan-winkler
American
Published
Nov 26, 2011
Lines·Words
12·73
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