In your image of the addict I live today,
Sobriety, my cross...
The price I must pay.
In this box I've been kept,
Your f****d up concept.
Degrees and awards dress up my room,
Doesn't matter to you...
This life is my tomb.
Your lies of alliance,
Your promise of trust,
Your messed up perception of familial guidance.
What do you know...of this, my disease?
It's locked and it's loaded,
And waiting to seize.
I've suffered in silence,
This pain I still feel,
The heart of the addict,
The breaking is real.
So save me the speech,
Stop testing my will,
An addict I was...
An addict I'm still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem