addiction

we're all addicted to something that takes the pain away. Then again, are we?

A direct line of smoke cuts through the starry night sky,

As you swiftly exhale, 

How you wish you could be like the smoke that erupted from the flaming tip of your cigarette,

Disappearing into oblivion.

The next round of drinks arrive, 

You devour it without a second's thought,

It seems like all your problems have disappeared into the concoction,

How you wish it would stay like that forever.

You lie on your bed desperately trying to catch some sleep,

Tussling and turning as the memories overpower you,

In a few minutes you've finally plunged into a sea of darkness and mystique,

How you wish you never had to wake up.

You spot a blood-stained blade on the kitchen counter,

With prompt and decisive strokes your hands are filled with streaks of blood,

You lay slumped on the floor staring at the crimson red,

Wondering if it should all just end.

You call your dealer for a quick fix up,

Within hours you're lying on your back intoxicated,

The world suddenly seemed so bright and full of prospects,

But you close your eyes and let the darkness consume you yet again.

They say we're all addicted to something that takes the pain away,

But you faced so much of it for so long,

It has consumed and overpowered you so much so,

That the pain has become your addiction.

Author's Note

I heard the adage 'We're all addicted to something that takes the pain away' recently. The question is, are we?