We lie we are numb,
And sit where the pain is most evident.
We say we don't feel anymore,
And accept the blows that came forth.

Sedating and maybe compelling.
Deep-rooted weakness unwavering.
Bounded and addicted to the scent.
The dangers escaping sight.

Addicted to stings of the flies,
That hurt like thorns in the night.
Making our hearts drip nothingness,
From it's dried up bank.

Addicted to the feeling of despair,
Hell bent on hopelessness within.
Not giving space for a new...