day of addiction

i bare my scars with all my pride but i hide the gaping wound in my side.

i break my hopes and bet my stars to protect myself from anymore scars.

i pick up the pieces, but they step on my fingers and all of my hurt that continues to linger.

all of the pictures are staring at my face as i stare at them, lying in her place.

there are no words to distract my attention from the inked-out demons of all my affections.

i have my addiction on a shirt that i wear, but people don�t always stop to stare

at what lies beyond the gates of my past; they�re quick to offer a cigarette after i deny their glass.

they suffer the same addictional bounds, but they take it with such surprising renowned.

i lay back and drift to the ceiling with thoughts of lust without even feeling.

laughing, i take my problems with a smile and brush them off with suede and some style.

i am a child trapped in a grown-up�s disease with fetishes i can�t even begin to please.

it�s all some grand illusion to something else of further delusion.

she wants to be more important and i try to let her, but my symptoms are looking for something �better�.

something real or something taken; something true or something fakened.

�the printer is empty now and so is my soul , and all that is left is a big empty whole.
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