honesty
 

An infant; mentally, I'm still learning to walk
Sober is a notion I can't comprehend so I gawk
Criminally minded my pens burning the chalk
From the outlined murders of memoirs I can't finish; assault.
I know its my fault,
I'm responsible, but still I can't feel
Crying while getting high's the only way pain is real.
Only then do I understand the definition of disappointment,
So I let my sores blister publicly at my place of employment.
I wear the mark of a user, there's no use in denying;
My work habits are deplorable, there's no need to keep trying.

Yet, somedays I wake up with the hope that I'll make it
Strip drugs from my life till I'm standing there naked.
I collect the half written poems, blow the dust off the mic
And record every last word till the sound is just right.
I know of my addictions, we all know I can't cope
Without the taste of percocet on the back of my throat.
But I'm willing to try, that is, if you're willing to listen,
Because this is the first thing that I've written
Without drugs in my system.

Tight drop looking forward to seeing more.
Lets hear that audio!
I feel like this can relate to a lot of people.
Shit I'm always high when I write.