*Contains some strong language.*
The man begins to see a habit. Yet he continues to run to that habit whenever Life gets tough. Regardless of who he hurts he runs to that habit to indulge. It numbs him for a little bit. It makes him forget his troubles. And it lies to him each and every time that this is where it’s at, flying high at the feet of death.
Time goes by. The man sees his mate’s tears with his every tango with that devil. He sees the wreckage whenever that devil comes a’ callin’. Many years he denies. Not me. And the blame game begins to shift the “truth of reality” onto another’s shoulders, shoulders of innocence. “This is not my fault”, he righteously proclaims to his mate. “If you had not acted the way you did, I would not have run to my habit.”
Responsibilities weigh him down and fun seems so so far away. Even though life pounds at him over…
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