This sober life is my Albatross,
heavy as a cross,
Bending my neck into knots.
Around me, I smell the nauseating scent of
alcohol and weed…
I am too pure to be here
Trapped in this addiction prison
The walls all tallied with excuses like their arms with track marks and razor scars
It’s not always so bad
There are the innocent drunks
Who frequent a Saturday party. But still…
I am unfair here.
The scales never tipping in my favor
If this is not sickness
What the hell is it?
I hear the high flies buzzing on their potential corpses
I rot slower
because I rot sober …
Inside my inescapable cell
Of everyone else’s escapes
@ angel rosen