I feel so old
yet I'm so young
I can tell you stories upon stories,
experience upon experience
yet I'm always craving more.
Lying awake on those 2 AM-can't sleep to save my life-nights,
all I have is guilt on my mind.
I've been through so much,
but my mother has been through much more at the hands of me.
Why must I have a wild soul?
Why do I love to alter my mind?
Why?
It hasn't become a problem,
though it could at any time, I'm sure.
People don't go altering themselves with the intent of getting addicted, but it happens more times than not.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
I believe it's because I want out of this world.
My soul screams through my chest to be let go, released into oblivion.
Yet I cannot abide by this request, so I drudge on another day, beverage in hand, pop a pill, escape escape escape.