POEM – ADDICTION (Oni Oludamola)

          ADDICTION
          

    It all started with just one try
    A trial that couldn’t hurt a fly
    My conscience tried to monish me, but I thought I could be sly
    “Don’t do it a second time!” but I didn’t see a reason why.

    The actions of a couple of time, metamorphosed into an habit
    In an unanticipated manner, I was swept off my feet
    I can’t control it anymore, totally engulfed by it
    Made yearly resolutions, thinking it would wear off a bit

    Tried rising by strength, praying earnestly with my soul
    But again and again, am fallen into this shit hole
    My freedom, my well-being, all has it stole
    Without it, I feel like am sitting on a gigantic burning coal

    Am so tired
    My peace has been fired
    It gives momentary pleasure as though it were hired
    I get ashamed of myself, downcast, whenever am sobered

    Who can save me from this menace?
    I feel like am walking on death’s terrace
    The pain of not being able to stop, burning in me like a furnace
    Please who knows where I can find a solace?

    I want to be free
    It has tormented me beyond bearable degree
    The right steps to follow I need you to decree
    Believe me, I really want to be the real me
    Tell me
    HOW DO I DEAL WITH ADDICTION?

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    1 COMMENT

    1. Very lovely poem

      Here is my version. Written it some months before yours.

      ADDICTION

      This is my confession.
      I've been keeping it for long,
      Maybe I'd be needing solution
      to drive me out of solitude.

      You know what?
      I'm a junkie.
      Don't judge me for you have no rights to.
      I've done drugs,
      gotten high boundless times.

      It makes me feel good.
      I hallucinate and see virtual people.
      People giving me thumbs-up.
      Making me do a bang up job.

      Now, I've got no shame.
      Sipping, injecting and snorting
      is my leisure pursuit.
      Grass, maryjane even hashish,
      I've explored them all.

      Now I've gotten myself in a cell.
      There is a reason why it's called a cell phone.
      Because the things we own ends up owning us.

      I need help from excessive punching of my pads.
      The chats that slowly pilfers time.
      The lights that gives me pleasure.
      The photos I like, the followers I have.
      The plexus that sucks my bucks.
      The times I sincerely laugh out loud
      and people think I'm a psycho.
      Yeah! I just need to sober.
      But I can't just do without it.
      How will this get to you outside of it?
      I'm a freaking social network addict.

      — Cranium X.

      You might want to contact me on whatsapp 08185124324

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