We are all addicted to some acts in one way or the other. We wish we can stop, but we are enslaved.
It's a demon, so they said,
It's a cancer, so I heard,
Buried deep, deep inside,
Hidden under, beneath my mind.

With its angelic voice always calling,
So seductive and tuneful, I keep falling,
With its powerful arms always pressing,
So weak and timid I am, always kowtowing.

When in its arms, I'm whole,
When it leaves, it creates a hole,
A bottomless pit filled with shame,
A remorseful heart full of blame.

I push tirelessly to keep it contain,
I dig deep, so it can't refrain,
But its claws never stop digging in,
I always shudder because it's part of me.

It makes me see the world in shades of gray and black,
So sad and tearful, I can't even fight it back,
Within, I'm losing hope and burning,
Inside, I'm getting weak and dying.
Published: 5/12/2014
Reflections of the Mind...
Bouquets and Brickbats