You became an addiction , a attachment , a drug ,  a seduction . . . Every time  i  use a drug , it bring back the old memory of that angel stuck in bones . .  My heart has no limit but my lungs do  . . . . . As the drugs hit me hard , breathing became  a war with my own organs . They  beg me to stop this thing . But for those sweet memories i could burn myself to death .

Nobody ever understood . . . No one catches  my tears at night . . . Nobody holds me and say ”everything will be alright” . . .  I was alone as the moon . . .

                                                                                              That’s the time when i met those smokes and  small round things. . .  Which melt my pain and offered me a comfort sleep . . . She become my physical necessity. . .


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