Back into my house, folding my umbrella as I unlock my door
Keys in, twisted as the door opens giving a malodor
Roof of this mansion leaks as it is almost flooding
I sit on my couch like nothing is happening
I have Addiction on my left and Conscience on my right
Arguing over things that has left me sitting unconcerned
Suddenly my mind starts pacing rapidly
A vomit visits as my heart starts racing
Spent the last months in therapy trying to find me
It's been a tough journey, believe me
Digging up dirt from years behind me
While I stroll, day-to-day, like I know what I'm doing
Eyes open to the house I have been living in
Like an asylum abandoned for driving people too crazy
This is it? How could I not see this?
But it was too late,for the house had already claimed its victims
So i reach the phone trying to call for help
Addiction holds my hands and says "false alarm, don't be scared"
Conscience yelling at me to wake up and make the call
Suddenly I am leaning onto the wooden-soot-lined wall
Crying in corner as I stare at my place
Crying for the pain, hoodie over my face out of shame
Why don't I do anything other than cry and pout?
Why don't I give the big OG a big cry out?
Time knocks, as I approach to open
My clock ticks , 20 minutes past 8 pm
Time saying " Have you finally accepted you can't do it alone?"
Addiction at the corner hiding, first time I've ever seen him shiver
Yes, Time. I can't do it alone
So here, give me the adrenaline shots
I want to feel the strength to my bones
I want to clean up this house till the very last marble rock
Addiction screams out " You Can't Tame Me"
I'm tired of your voices and tired of you
As if somehow, to feel happiness, I have to answer to you
I lost myself, only alive because of the ring on my cell
But now the clock says time's up
I'm tired of carrying my mistakes around, like a garbage truck
I intend to put all effort to clean this house up
"Hello , is this Sam? From route 51"
And if you're reading this, I have got a story to tell
I'm loud in my poetry but silent alone in my shell
You could either carry the past on your shoulders
Or you could just ,breathe and start over
About the Creator
Harydo Neon
I drain my thoughts through my pen. That's the only way I breathe.
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