Rehabilitation
Scratching, scratching, scratching,
Itching, itching, itching until blood starts to pour.
Hoping to cause external pain,
So the inner turmoil will stop for a moment
But nothing keeps the thoughts away,
Nothing stops yhe constant wanting to go back
To take another shot, down another pill
So as to not feel the world collapsing
An escape that used to be so known
But a pain unable to share
Due to the stigma that comes with
The constant questioning of why,
Or the nagging at how
Wondering where it all went so wrong.
But the worst part about it all
Is knowing that the only reason to not go again
Isn't to stay away from whats slowly taking my life
Or to better my own health
But to finally be able to not be judged
And when I reach milestones so hard to achieve
Its never an I'm proud of you with no hidden motive
But always a look thats held slightly too long
A thought they think is hidden but is shown blatant
That makes it known how everyone I know views me
They don't see how far I've come from before
They just see that I started in the first place
Which is always enough to see me as useless
To write me off as just another junkie
These looks and thoughts never ending
Until I start to view myself the same.
Then the itching, itching, itching
Or the scratching, scratching, scratching.
Turns to a pop, swallow, calm
Or a pour, swallow, peace.
So I drift away one more night,
Just for the thoughts to be double tomorrow.
Feedback:
Posted Jun 5, 2026, 4:54 AM UTC