The Crufixion Procession

I will try to explain
Though for the words I'm at a loss,
About the cult of people
Who worship a hollow plastic cross.
The cross has a metal point
That inserts into my arm,
Though it makes me feel good
I know it's doing harm.
It injects superficial life
Into my punctured veins,
Making me forget my wounds
Making me forget my pains.

Each shot is a coin toss:
Not a literal flip, a figurative one,
Actually more like Russian roulette
With a fully loaded gun.
Whether you choose heroin
Or if your choice is speed,
We are all the same
Our desires we must feed.

I can't speak for everyone
But I can say for myself,
That in my closet of life
Broken containers line every shelf.
I have chosen drugs
As my way to cope
Hoping I can get more
Gives me a glimmer of hope.

It starts off as a game
I knew I wouldn't get hooked
Until I was in a jail cell
After just being booked.
I was released after my court date
Because it was my first offense
I'm told to go to rehab
But it's not a habit is my defense.

Soon it all goes downhill
It takes more to get high
In light of my new habit
My friends have said goodbye.
But that doesn't bother me
Because the needle is my friend
And will always be with me
Until the very end.

Trying to free myself from my pains
I've realized I've become a slave
With no chance for freedom
Until I reach my grave
When I conceded myself to the facts
And gave up all semblance of hope
I devoted all of every day
To trying to get more dope.

So what once was a game
Is now a way of life
What once eased my pain
Now only causes strife.
I've sold all my possessions
And I'm living on the street
My jeans are full of holes
And there's blisters on my feet.

My hair is dirty and tangled
There's tract marks on my arms
I used to be charismatic
But I've lost all my charm.
I don't care about anything in life
No matter how hard I try
Except about getting dope
In a useless effort to get high.

What once was a symbol of hope
Is now an object of distress
What previously let me deal with life
Has only made it a mess.
The Hollow Plastic Cross
Will be my crucifixion
Because I couldn't control my habit
And it has become an addiction.