First Hand Lows
I will move away from here. The world that
wants to make me addicted. I used to want to be
someone, sorted out/cleansed from myself. First
hand low’s, second hand smoke. Harmful and
waiting until I choke. You can never make a
better human until your left with none. Now I
can only let confusion be me and learn to send
love back to myself. Now I’d do anything not to
be addicted. Now I am an ace of my condition.
Everything unsung is what is beautiful. Where
once my arms could never hold on tight. I feel
nooses loosen and the ability to scream my mind
clear. Unbury myself from insecurities and all
the wrong answers for all the vain reasons.
Watch me fail and live again to fail again.
I used to be my biggest problem.
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