Addiction

Fixated on one "last" fix...
Is this what my life has become?
Am I so far gone—so deeply
Entrenched in this sorry thing—
That I am no longer a familiar
Face to my very own soul?

Life.
I can feel it slipping away
As I partake once more of
The very thing my heart
Decries as the bane of my existence—
A sorry existence, indeed.

I know not how, I feel not guilty,
I wish not an end, and I can not
Find a way to stop myself...
Nor can any but me stop me.

I cry dry tears as I
Tear my soul asunder.
And the smile on my face
Has become perpetual disgust—
With myself and with my sin.

"Make it end!" I plead in darkness,
Crying unto light, "Bring me back
Into thy halls of joy and eternity!
Save me from myself and this false
And fleeting sense of happiness!"

A ghostly whisper seems to fill
My ears with a simple and soul
Wrenching phrase: "Look first to
Thyself, beloved, and then unto
The heavens unto which you cry."

—C.R.E.