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Sad Fact

The sad fact is I drink too much
And pop my share of pills
I can't seem to stay in touch
While seeking artificial thrills

My history contains abuse
Licentious to an extreme
My thinking has become obtuse
In a world of one long dream

I will strive for sobriety
At least hope for some control
Can't handle notoriety
But still light another bowl

I may never be completely clean
And often take a fall
But this usage has become obscene
And I ignore my dealer's call.
Written by crowfly
Published
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