Breaking Old Habits

Creature of repetition

So used to the same old plans and routines

I have been the source of my many demises

Self injuring my soul, body and mind with going down the familiar route

An addict to my own drug of wearing my heart on my sleeve

For those who wouldn’t even hold me in any regard

When it mattered the most

Fear of the unknown, hate for this pain I inflict on myself

I can hold the keys to the prison cell I’ve made my home repeatedly

Yet refuse to inhale the cold foreign scent of freedom.

  • – Writer From Jersey
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