Addiction

When I was young, early in my teens,
A sip here, a puff there,
Not knowing what it means,
Clutching my ungraded paper I stood in allyways,
And smirked at them fighting
for money, I thought, then,
Or perhaps merely drunk, again.

They stare at me, groups of uncanny eyes,
unfocused. I'd stare back, as I dropped my crumpled test
and take another puff, of blissful poison.
'I won't be like them',
That was what I thought then.

Now, I'm always drunk, and chain-smoking
is second nature.
Too far gone to know what it means.
But I remember that ungraded paper, crumpled,
As I have crumpled my life,
I look through these uncanny eyes,
and realise what they were fighting for.

Always for that second chance.

---

/By Museikouu/
...(I appologise to anyone who cares about continuously changing my name.)

This poem, after what seems like a million years, is inspired by two consecutive pictures that I drew a few months back. I have them pined beside my desk. The pictures in turn were inspired by one of my classmates in Taiwan, who was playing around with drugs when I was still there, and is now seriously addicted. He was a friend, kind-of, and I always wonder if he ever regrets it. His grade were never good, he never tried. But I hope he grabs that second chance while he can.