A Mile in Your Shoes

I’d scrutinize addicts confess their relapses,
my face passive while I judged them silently,
self-righteously thinking,
“Oh! What a great tragedy drugs are!
How could they bear the devastation of addiction, the humiliation of relapse,
the fall from grace”
I would never be like them I was sure.

Yesterday I was stuck in bed,
stuck in a mental loop of torture and pain,
tears a reprieve I needed but was denied.
I’d turn left to right,
faced away from the window,
the sun a halo I was undeserving of.
Resigned to my horrible fate,
I remained immersed in my filth,
my muscles sore,
but the greatest of them was my brain.

And I was angry.
I had relapsed into an abyss of low,
another day of beating myself down,
killing the little light I had kindled the other day,
trashing the affirmations I had vowed to take on as prayer.

A servant to my emotions,
today I vowed again it would be my last mental imprisonment.
I’m scared,
tomorrow is unknown to my mortal self,
and my soul stopped believing my promises yesterday.
We live to suffer, heal-
then suffer some more.

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