Era of Self-destruction

Crazy, they call me when I tell them that-

Every drop that takes you higher, ends in another slap on her face.

Your shaky hands may grip tightly, yet lose control on the wheel of fate.

You may float in a haze of pleasure but under all that ecstasy lies only heartache.

Your self-medication has invited diseases invisible to all eyes but your own.

Cloaked in virgin white it burns on your fingertips, feeding your life slowly to the flames.

Your family is safe from demons and monsters, but how will you save them from you?

 

Crazy, they may call me or by any other name

Yet, I can’t close my eyes to the things that remain after the end

Of your era of self-destruction and your failed suicides leave a trail of bodies instead.

You may think that salvation comes in small packages

When in reality you are the only one who ever held the key.

To every action there must be a balancing one in return –

Nothing you do can ever be completely undone.

So choose what you want and be ready to repent

For the hours that you have wasted, the life that went unspent.

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