Substitutions are short term solutions
To problems that we cannot resolve
Even though I am human, I need to evolve
My hand is not my companion
It doesn't ask me how happy I am
The twitch happens and its time to go again
Is this how sobriety is supposed to play out?
Kicking ***** to the curb, only to receive
In return an obsession, over my depression
To try and write down life's lessons?
Yet with all these journals half empty
What exactly am I saving for me?
Disappointment, because I missed the
Appointment to my own creativity?
I do have a proclivity to playing out
My own self-fulfilling prophecies
Oh well, that's just me