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DEALING WITH ADDICTION |
I still can recall how my grades were quite high.
My future looked brighter than most.
I did pretty well at the things that I'd try.
It's not my intention to boast.
I could have excelled at so many good things.
I could have been top of my class.
Instead I decided to give up my wings.
I chose getting high, smoking grass.
I had no idea, of what I had done,
the day that I'd took my first hit.
Looking back now, I'd have never begun,
if I'd known it was so hard to quit.
A day wouldn't pass that I wouldn't be stoned.
I lived most my life in a haze.
A habit I hated, yet one I condoned,
and carried for most of my days.
I made these excuses, I even believed them.
One was (get this) motivation.
I started great things, yet seldom achieved them.
Another excuse, celebration.
I'd celebrate birthdays. Weekends! Vacations!
The moment I'd get out of bed.
I constantly was thinking of new celebrations.
I celebrate now, I'm not dead.
Another excuse, it made me creative.
Brought out the artist in me.
I only learned now, what it is I am made of,
now that my life is pot free.
I don't miss the coughing. The paranoid feelings.
I don't miss my being spaced out.
I don't miss the dealers. Their underhand dealings.
The panics that came with each drought.
Pot was the drug that had opened the door,
for all of the others to enter.
Of all of the drugs I was able to score,
Pot had the stage, front and center.