My throat is dry, is my cigarette even lit?
So empty inside,
Awake all night.
I light another smoke for my loneliness,
My suffering, suffocation and unhappiness.
No energy left,
To stop breathing.
Should I really wait until I'm cracked,
Or die with my pride still attached?
Like an itch that you can't scratch,
A pain inside, impossible to snatch.
To carry on pretending,
Until the bitter ending.
Throat so sore I just can't swallow,
Crying inside from eyes so hollow.
Save me,
Rescue me.
Seeking satisfaction in a material thing,
Couldn't care less what people think.
Words are my escaping, digging up the dirt.
But they are too small to describe this hurt.
Hands in the air,
Surrender, don't you dare.
Life is real, but I wish it was fiction,
Finding release through a hurtful addiction.
Feeling so neglected,
Alive but disconnected.
We all have to learn and memorize the lesson,
I did, and you just read my confession.
by Kiri Rehmeier 07/10/12