patchwork child

poor impulse control

poor impulse control
doing what feels good
even if it's not
a pain that's blazing hot

material dependencies
not knowing when to stop
as if i was chased
my own plasma laced

what of me now?
a large void in place
grasping for relief
no matter how brief

i'll choose my own tune
as it all burns down
i'll be the flame and kindling
until my life is dwindling

poor impulse control
dying for a high
perhaps i should be locked away
before the price it too large to pay