Addiction pt.2

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by TheWanderingBurd

by TheWanderingBurd

They tell you it gets better.

As if the idea of ripping your own flesh off was appealing in the first place.

As if the idea of blacking out is something we celebrate with streamers and balloons

They tell you it gets easier

As if picking up a knife was easy in the first place

As if setting my own house on fire and watching my possessions burn gives me the deepest joy attainable.

This isn't a Nike ad, we didn't JUST DO IT.

Our mind is a warzone and we needed to defuse the bomb.

Bravely scouring our resources, but self sacrifice is always required.

A price that gets higher and higher everytime it is paid but feels lesser and lesser because we have shrunk ourselves down into numbness so often we do not mind exploding.

It takes strength to walk away but it takes strength to begin.

Not that I pin the badge of hero over addictions

I'm just trying to make you see

This isn't what you think.

Bleeding veins made a warrior out of me

now that untouched flesh lies smooth

I'm not sure I'm as tough as everyone makes me out be.

I cut myself so everyone would know I couldn't be beat.

Now I take the punches and try to rise but trip over my own sinking feet.

It wasn't that I wanted to die it's that I wanted to live.

It wasn't that I hated myself I hated the circumstances I was living in.

I once heard it said you have to tear a muscle to make it stronger

So I tore my flesh to make a thicker armor.

3 years now but I still think about it every single day.

It's not that it gets better, easier, or I found another outlet to channel my pain.

It's that I started valuing health more than I valued seeing red.

But whenever I need extra grit you can still find the lines,

just with black marker drawn,

instead of blades this time.