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At this point there little difference between drugged and a drug addict. However you look at it you're a victim when you wake up.

Reality being contorted by a demonic hangover or maybe waking up in the back of somebody else's car

If you're lucky a friend will be passed out beside you,

If your really lucky they'll be handing you a bottle of advil

However if you were out getting numb going home with people you don't know you'll be alone

Rush out of the room before the owner returns or maybe check your house for no longer wanted guests

You'll be searching for your phone in discarded clothes only to find the time half past noon and no one checking in on you

Remember within an hour the events of which occurred while your words were slurred by a rolling smoke or a stone cold liquid in your stomach

Think back to the thought that made you hit rock bottom only to place another bottle in your hand and make the memory disappear like a puff of smoke

Because thats all it is anymore, truth is your blues have turned your mind into a panic room

A full frontal assault of every sense you own

And yet the peace you find at the bottom of a bottle, pill or drink
Is always worth it

You'd waste all the money you've ever made on something you were trained to ignore

Up until you disobeyed that rule and the punishment was enprisonment inside your own head

At first it was for fun, now it's just an excuse to forget what you'd done wrong, what you should've done, or maybe it was something you lost

Something you didn't have perhaps?

Maybe you just wanted to get high but got numb instead and then addiction kicked in

You became an addict on accident

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