Part of a Paradox

Im stuck, my feet are buried.

Im sinking, my family's worried.

Position a tombstone right above me, "felt his life was ending, so he made sure it hurried."

The past few months are kinda blurry.

I cant remember the last week I was sober.

All I do is tweak until the night is over.

My soul is crying out, "God forgive me," im crying loud.

I dont even know if he's real, but ill do anything that'll help.

But I wont stop doing these drugs that help me escape the lack of love.

And my mom's worried, asking if im okay.

I tell her that im fine before I part to my own ways.

Im barely 19, failing at all my dreams, saying ill be okay then smoke alittle weed.

But truthfully im not, I havent been sober a while, I feel like im not a being.

I think im gonna die when im 36, enter the river Styx, buried with dirt and sticks.

The Devil will cage me, torture me to get his kicks.

Im an addict, I have an addiction.

I say ill change my ways but all my change has been missing.

Heres another 15 for a gram, put it on instagram, smoke it til its ash.

I dont know who I am.

I used to be the kid who'd cry when his mother smoked a cig.

Nowadays im smoking til my hoodie becomes a wig.

I dont even shower much anymore, my body smells like shit.

But ill do whatever to make sure that I get my fix.

And I hate sobreity, maybe thats why drugs are illegal in this society.

Not because they kill people, but because they kill their mentality.

But there's nobody around who gives a fuck about other peoples vitality.

Until their eyes are opened by this "high-time" anomaly.