Black Ice

When drugs take hold, The lines become blurred between a high and true emotion.

Facing the hardness of a struggle

She wore it on her face and kept her ideals muffled, issues

Surrounding her ideas left her voice muzzled

And each cry out for help left her more puzzled than the last 

"Why do I keep getting left for last?'

And just like an addiction, her passions come back to haunt her past, progress is stopped and time goes way too fast, 

Each expression of happiness stifled by a need to get clean,

She speaks too loud and every word is a mere

Whisper. 

Maybe I forgot what it was like to be free

To claim my soul for something more than currency.

I'm stupid, I'm afraid.

I use these vices as escapes to my happy places, 

Like a constant state of crisis, 

I cry for empathy.

And the mirror never responds.

We're so damaged inside, 

With cracks in our spirit that will last forever, 

We look for a miracle from above,

When the real mystery is how we managed to stay together. 

I was meant for more than this.