If I could drink and smoke all of my problems and fears away,
I would do that until the end of time.
I can’t.
I’m smart enough to know it won’t work.
Curious enough to try every once in a while, just to see.
Too sensitive to withstand its effects on me.
I choose to suffer sober.
Silence.
Hoping one day my brain gets the relief it’s desperately seeking,
if only for a day.