What the hell have I done?

I have spent countless months wondering if this is my fault or if it’s innate.

I swear, it started out as just fun,

And now each day, my pupils dilate.

I can easily tell the difference between

Real happiness and just being high.

I will always be unclean,

Trapped in my own gaslighting lie.

It’s hard to care much anymore,

About plot drafts and chapters,

I guess I’ll just be a whore,

And hang myself from the rafters.

It was never a gateway drug,

But suddenly, I said yes

To so many bad things with a “sure” and a shrug.

I forgot talent, ambition, and success.

It was never a gateway drug,

But suddenly, I became a pothead, opioid freak,

Mushroom eyes, morphine slug,

Addict, so weak.

It was never a gateway drug,

But suddenly, I deteriorated in my so-called joy.

I’m still just as miserable, and I’d like a hug,

But I just want to destroy.