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I could barely keep my eyes open.
I was so wasted.
So drunk, I forgot my name.
So buzzed, I failed to remember my worth.
So intoxicated, I don’t remember exactly what happened.
All I can recall is the fact that I was so incredibly tanked.
Only, it wasn’t alcohol I was getting high off.
No, it wasn’t *** or ****,
coke, or molly,
beer or whiskey,
tequila or *****…
My mother warned me about all of those.
But she, among other people,
“forgot” to warn me about the living, breathing drugs;
the ones they don’t tell you about in school.
The tan, brown eyed, black haired ones.
The ones with the tender kisses after every hit.
The ones with the charming smiles and the sparkling eyes.
Those are the ones
no one ever mentions.
Although, they are the worst for your health;
emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual…
no one gives you the precaution.
And soon enough,
you find yourself
burned out,
shaking,
dizzy and
nauseous
because of this one fatal addiction.
The name of this cruel intoxication?
The Player.
suicidalsmiles Apr 2014
My personal nightmare,
Every night,
I dream,
A twisting cold passage,
Countless keys,
To countless doors,
Frames of memories,
Of  a happy time.
I run through the corridors,
Forever trying to find the door,
The door that leads to a long time ago.
My mother passed away two years ago when I was fifteen. Almost every night I have these dreams of her, so life like I think she's alive when I wake up. But she's not, and I experience heartbreak over and over again.

— The End —