Done

Where do I begin?
Arriving here at echo’s end
Addiction strikes at the hearts of men
Stabs at the particulars of then
Wishing for what wouldn’t have been
Cover my ears at the deafening din
Sickening twinge of crawling skin
Swirling aversion to carnival ride spin
Falling smack on pavement’s grin
Forget the times of remembering when
You were never faithful, Friend
You were plastic and porcelain
Intemperate as the warping wind
I’m tired of taking hits on the chin
The problem lies within, therein
Buttoned-up so you won’t break in
It’s not a matter of who will win
I simply won’t come to this again
I wash my hands of this selfish sin

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