Track Marks

see my tack marks on my arm
they show where i have been
shooting up to my heart with needles and lack of feeling
broken and lost ambition fading fast
closure from denying my worth
these bruises faded
the emotional scars have not

I have been places few have came back from
seen parts of this world few still tell stories about
the lost youth of needles and medication
thinking every drug is just another way of staying stable

cultivating sadness with self medicating
blacking out from the xanium of the xanax bars mixed with the liquor
man that was a dumb decision but I guess i really did miss her
its not cry of help if you do it more than twice
it becomes an infatuation to the pain
its being in a love hate relationship
make emotionless life changing decisions spontaneous

what does it mean to be painless
yet full of pain. I know more ways then you could explain
this is a yellow light for anyone who feels like shooting tonight
i was there it was despair I did not care
that was the worst when no dreams could repair
your ways from a sickness you dont remember choosing

washing your hands of lost friends due to too much of the good stuff
strung out on lust impaired by the lack of trust
situations turn fast from good to bad
hands turn from flesh to blue at a poke of needle
or a cut line from a lethal dose
fabricated synthetic pain killers witch cause pain
kill more than they take away the cuts the bruises
of not knowing a way out of a tunnel
they collopse into the track marks
pick up a needle tie of an arm with a belt
and fall into unconsciousness
only they never wake up
oh synthetic succubus
enough is enough the trapped will overcome
from this drug conscious unconscious
world of the hardly living!