TW : Drugs

Subject to my heart, 
Doused in kerosene by those who believed in me.

In line for standing hours,
For one simple prescription that will be used but not by its user.

I feel guilt for my disgusting ways.
The times i stay up popping more than i should. 
The times i stay up sculling down medicine that isnt my own.

All for a single high.
The moments i can feel not myself.
Any glimpse of a life that wouldnt be mine,
A glimpse of this thing we call the Eternal Death.

It seems peaceful.
I can clasp it in my hands,
But slips away once i awake.

I want it.
I want to feel the relief of not needing to think anymore.
The relief of not needing anything, not anymore.
The sweet relief of not being a burden.

But yet the moment i have it, 
The moment i hold it close it to me,
Is the very same i am denied the peace and quiet of dying.

So i say the same line i tell everyone, 
"I am fine."
When i am not.
Infact, im incredibly the opposite.
But youll never know that.
How could you?

I wont tell you no matter how much you berate me for it.
Youll only know that im okay.

Because i am.
Im okay when i have a few in my hand.
Im okay when i have a few down my throat.
Im okay when the blood rushes to my head and the vomit ends up in the toilet.
Im okay when im passed out from them.
Im okay when im lying down on the bathroom floor, covered in my own fluids.

But why would you worry when you have nothing to be worried for?
Ill set myself on fire for a high.
But dont you dare forget that im alright.