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My Dear Poet Apr 2021
“Look after your Soul”,
that old preacher would say
Cherish with your life
or it may wither away
Take care, to take care
and guard it well
Lest it becomes so sickly
it’s fit only for Hell
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
You were a drug to me, babe.
      You weren't the medicinal kind either.
                                          You weren't just a painkiller.
You weren't an antidepressant.
                                                     You weren't a Xanax.
                                                        You weren't ******.
You weren't even the good kind of drug.

                    You weren't ****** or **** or ecstasy.
You were the kind of drug that
                                           messed around with my heart and left my brain feeling clouded.
You were the kind of drug that left me confused and
                                                                               feeling worse than before I took you.
But I did.
Again and
again.
I told myself I would
break this vicious cycle of unscrewing your cap and
                                                                   hating myself for it afterwards.
That I wouldn't draw back the plunger and
                                                          force you into my veins anymore.
But I didn't.
Again and
again.

I told myself you
                                                would be the death of me.

Every high you gave me left me feeling
                                                                          lost in the clouds.

I might as well have been
                                    six feet deep.
This poem was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
You were the definition of
             Satisfaction.
You were the    blood
                                  in my veins, and
the smoke     in my lungs.  
I was addicted to you in the worst of ways.
It was you who could quench the eternal thirst at my lips. And it was you who could satisfy the ravenous hunger in my bones.
You were everything I needed all at once. And You gave me everything I ever wanted.
A love that
                  consumed  
                             me.
Check out the other poems in the "Addictions" series!
This poem was written in 2016.
Kimmy Oct 2020
Dear addiction
                    This is goodbye

You have been a close friend, that i have always been able to count on over the years
Always had my back through all the highs and lows,
You have  had a huge impact on my life  but not in a good way!
I have now realized how much time I have wasted on you
I also have realized how many times you have taken advantage of me
Especially when i was at my most vulnerable
Im tired of letting you control me
Im tired of always having to depend on you to make me feel a certain way.
Im tired of this love- hate relationship im ready to release this shame
And self-hatred you have been causing me for so many years,
I am ready to find freedom for myself and create a life that is worth living
Thank you for all the important lessons you have taught me about my self
Sincerely
Better off
Without you💕
I am in the process of beating my addiction. Its hard and yes there are times I want to give up. Then I think of how everything was just so wrong and messed up. My mind couldn't handle anymore abuse... I had to stop.
Pinelle Bikouta Sep 2020
How
many pills
does it take,
For pain to be
numbed? That's
a simple answer,
Simply take
one.

How
many pills
does one need,
To be able to fall
asleep? That's a
simple answer,
Try take
three.

How
many pills
will I require,To
be able to control
my thoughts? For lately
they've grown into dark
desires. Maybe I
should try take
four.

How
many pills
should I swallow,
To be able to see the light?
Lately I've been in darkness,
and in it I just wallow...
Maybe to escape
I'll take
nine.

How
many pills
must I consume,
To feel as if these
demons are now out?
I don't feel well, and the
feeling will resume, Unless
I bump up consumption,
maybe take
ten now.

How
many pills,
will save me,
From the terror I
now face? I feel too
sick to get up, So
maybe I should
take another
eight.

How
many pills
will I need this
time, To cure me
from the demise
of taking a
breath?

...

Answer:
A pill cannot
cure life, So the
only way to end my
sickness is
death.
...because we're always told pills will cure our pain, but are never told that life will eventually be full of it
M R White Feb 2020
At times I fear I am just like my mother,
Irresponsible, corrupt, deceiving.
Going no where – fast.
Gathering too much of the bad genes in my body.
They range from,
Alcoholism,
Being dependent on any type of pill,
To being with controlling a spouse.
I have never seen my mother with a man that was good for her.
This is another looming fear, being under the thumb of controlling men.
I think things like that run down the bloodline.
It’s all I have seen as a kid,
A man has to be controlling to really be in love with you,
A man has to put you in your place to show you he cares,
A man has to fully support you,
strip you of anyway of being independent;
because that is love.  
It is scary, and you yield many red flags.
But something in me finds beauty in it.
I know this is horribly sick, I know this isn’t right.
But something about the fight, is so beautiful.
When you tell me I mean the world to you,
I believe it, I do.
But something else looms over my head.
And I’m not quite sure what it is,
but it is quiet and sly.
This is what I fear what my mother felt,
A looming fear over her head, not even realizing the weight.
This is what draws me in, I feel myself reeling closer, and closer
to this unsettling, but secure feeling.
A promise of a beautiful land to live on,
with a beautiful family and wonderful home.
A promise of a great life, but at what cost?
My own father? My family?
It seems odd that you would want to strip me of the man that raised me,
the man that molded me.
Of everyone near me that I have grown close to through the years.
Odd that you want to be my one and only.
Quite literally.
But something is so intriguing about you.
I can not help but tell myself that you are the one.
But again, at what cost?
This is my biggest fear, I do not want to inherit this gene from my mother.
I do not want the gene, of having
every aspect of my life needing to be controlled.
To be solely reliant on one human being,
and it not even be myself.
That is my fear.
To be merely dependent on you.
I love you, I love you so much.
And that is my fear, loving you more than myself.
And putting all my life on the back burner to please you.
I beg of you,
do not be that man.
Your envy is green as a sly snake, and it is evil.
And your anger, my god your anger, it is red as the devils horns.
But,
your love, compassion, and sensitivity,
is as warm and pink as the act of love making.
And love trumps all, does it not?
Your envy may be green, and anger red.
But your love is what makes me feel whole.
I love you, and understand,
I will give you all of me.
As long as it does not drain me.
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