Ask it.
And mirror marked
Of grime, and dirt
Lines, white
Razor perfect
Eyes that haunt
My own
Approaches
A simple device
Of a vice
Choices
I find myself
This familiarity
Strings to hands
Leading feet
Want, need
To not
And no longer
Be that one
This used to numb
Thoughts are
Are not
The intentions
Put to sound
Shaky tired voice
Help me
Breathe it in
While facing
His gaze is
I
Am
Sorry
Again
Denial addiction struggles medicating disappointing failing sick weak disease excuses forgiving needs bad choices helpme