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The Art of Addiction
Her hair highlighted with fiery brown,
Her eyes of a pearly white,
She was all I could see.
Her presence intrigued me,
Pulling me into her soft hum.
"Come with me," she breathes.
She controls me like a puppet,
Bringing me into a cold, dark room.
No light.
No color.
"Where are we?" I ask her.
She puts her finger to my lip,
Calming my brain.
"No questions."
I follower in an evil trance,
Knowing I must get out.
But I can’t.
My weakness defeats my strength.
I take another sip of her cold medicine,
Knowing I’ll take another once I taste it.
And so it goes.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
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