Sickening Addiction

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I fear that I couldn't possibly face the real world.

Submitted: July 06, 2010

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Submitted: July 06, 2010

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My life is so aggravatingly pathetic.

I don't know how to express anything to people.

Not that they would understand.

I really don't mean the clique.

I tried explaining it rationally.

I explained with logic.

I explained it with emotion.

I tried integraty.

I even tried to spell.

But now that we have entered this degenerate society.

Where no one can understand.

Where the only thing that listens is a computer.

How am I suppose to turn to anything.

I can't expect anything to withold me.

My ambitions.

My goals.

They are simply to large for this boring and mundane world.

But there remains a place I can always rely on to hold back the tears.

I can't cry.

I am to arrogant to allow myself to admit defeat to this.

Cold

Wretched

Indespecable hate

So I am addicted to the one outlet that allows me to express myself

Even in the toughest of times

I can escape

From my boyfriend

Family

Friends

All of those who really try their hardest to understand and can't

I simply turn away.

I close the facebook.

I exit my myspace.

I let the wonders of messenging simply vanish.

I return to write.

It is my addiction.

A scary necessity to express the divinest of emotion

A writer is poor because their ideas are to

Rich

In depth

Knowledgable

And full

of Substance

Writing is much like a substance abuse to me

It really doesn't solve any problems

As

People interpret it incorrectly

Perception is thrown off

A man can become rather enraged by

Writing

Writing can also cause such a diversity of emotions

It can make people feel good

Or bad

Even one piece with intentions of sarcasm and hysterics

Can strike one mad

Writing is my addiction

A temporary escape from the real world

When only tomorrow enrages in me

The same fucking problems


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