the flicker of a clipper,
is my calling card,
lighting up,
while i'm falling hard,
impulsively puffing,
passing time,
watching haze clouds,
helps me unwind,
oh ,
& A bottle in hand,
seems to be my latest trend..
an empty bottle,
is my closest friend,
but with each swallow,
i find myself..
feeling more hollow.
3am , & i'm on the floor,
holding on,
but i can't take much more..
these sleepy eyes don't find much rest..
& mother dear, never taught me what's best,
substance abuse was her pride & joy,
functioning insufficiently,
like a broken toy..
now, i'm not trying to play the blame game,
no pity parties here,
i just wish i would have been raised,
out of something other than fear.