addicted to zoning out

but still learning about growing out

my mind is always filled with doubt 

as I drop the ashes into the grout

I wonder why I'm a social drought

incoherent mumbling what am I talking about 

the silence is so loud right now

take another hit I dont want to fall back down

paranoia so thick I could drown 

everyones staring like I'm a clown

conscious of every sound I make 

been told life is a bitch give and take

I just want to wake up 

and not be afraid too look at whats in my cup 

be able to play my hand of cards 

and not have to worry about how hard everything could be

move my own hands so I can see

I'm waiting for the day I can be myself without tree's



This poem is about: 


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