Hole in the Soul
One last cigarette in the pack,
A twenty and some change,
Just a few pills, some weed in my sack,
Empty again, my soul exchanged.
Lovers and friends, they fade away,
Into the past, into the gray,
Nothing is left except the need to feed,
The emptiness, obsession and greed.
Someone asks, “Are you OK?”
When every day is lifeless gray,
My life is being sucked down the hole,
Another fix, another bowl.
One is too many, ten thousand not enough,
Sometimes it hurts, sometimes its rough,
Until the joy goes up my nose,
My feelings are ice, forever froze.
There’s a hole in my soul,
That I can’t fix with a bag or a bowl,
I can feel my life pouring out,
With a scream of fear and pain and doubt.
The fiction that is addiction,
Tells you all is well with great conviction,
That hole in your soul is a gaping wound,
You barely notice as you fall apart,
Until you’re so broken, you have no heart.