I cannot be as weak as this
I pick the **** up to my lips
Inside I cringe
at every binge
I do despite my thoughts of right.

I believe I can control myself
but, I must be thinking of someone else,
for this dependence
that's over me
has taken my ability;
- to see the good in all that's bad
- to get a smile from someone sad
but,
what's the use of optimism?
what good is hope inside this prison?

My addiction's taken over me
though I have a dream to be set free

But, a prisoner I am bound to me
unless some force inside of me
unleashes strength
unto my soul
Regaining all that drugs have stole
and if this happens
if it only could
that I'd set my old **** down for good.