narcotic poet

like this spruce tree and
rose bush behind me
i want my sobriety to grow
and unlike my using
i will let everyone know

when i was digging
my own grave
i was living in doubt
but learning these steps
recovery will get me out

my name is chris and im a junkie
whats left to say
i believe more in my doubt
which makes it hard to pray

if i dont help myself
why the hell should God
if i need to keep my head up
why do i love to nod

why do i poke my skin
to feel what ive never had
when im missing my addicition
more than not having a dad

i think of my princess calling someone else her father
wishing id never tried hard
instead tried harder

as my regret washes away
like the dope in my veins
i feel im  burning in the spoon
cause i lie when i pray

my stomach starts to ache
i feel i should get high
a needle to fix my pain
a needle to stay alive

i die a little more
with a point
i hate to understand
i find serenity in believing
i can become a new man