Short Story: Breathe For The Venom

It takes the pain away, even if I know it’s bad.
It’ll never be the best, but it helps me when I’m sad.
It’s venom for my veins, it always leaves a stain.
I would never share my views, I would never share this pain.

It burns as it goes down, a different sort of sound.
It gurgles and it pops, it’ll surely make me drown.
The problems haven’t started, they’ve only seemed to ease.
But I know one day they’ll catch me, it’s underneath my sleeve.

If I catch another being, with problems such as mine.
I’ll try to help them softly, I would never let them die.
But when I look into the mirror, it’ll never feel the same.
I’ll never speak to her softly, I’ll always be to blame.

So I hold onto my hope, of whatever seems to stand.
I’ll try to hold myself up, even if I’m buried in the ground.
Some people seem to notice, they ask or they might bite.
A thing that seems to save them, so try it I just might.

I’ll fight to my last breath, if it’s soon or maybe late.
But one thing that I can say, is that I’ll never know the date.
So each day that I mark off, is a celebratory breath.
I’m not leaving you today, but I don’t think that I fear death.