These bad habits lie.
Lie deep within, hiding like scar tissue.
On the outside, I am fine.
These bad choices lie.
Misleading and fooling.
I've been their fool for too long now.
For years I've settled for false comfort,
Believing they calm me down.
The anxiety grew beneath the lies.
Pain spread more with the guilt.
I truly am sorry.
The voice that cared less about living,
The voice that urged self destruction
echoes in the distance.
She's losing control.
16 years. Damn.
With all the teenage angst.
She could very well be driving
But now I've done it.
I've taken away the keys.
*I'm new here so forgive me if I make any errors in posting. I enjoy the poetry on here and have always loved poetry. I am trying to get back to it as a much needed outlet for my emotions. When I was smoking I forgot that I once loved to do many other things and writing was one of them. I'm a bit "rusty" but I wrote this and had hidden it away in one of my purses for a long time. 55 days into my quit I needed to read it again. 16 years was referring to the length of time that I had been a daily, habitual "closet smoker", the length of time I isolated myself from practically everyone. Taking away the keys is taking back control. Written as if coming from the adult me to the teenage me, where the damage began.
Thanks for reading. I pray that God will bless us all in our freedom from addiction.
