Petes Poetry
Habit
It squeezes me
in its vice like grip.
It takes me away
on an endless trip.
It retards me
like a car out of time.
I can't stop it
even though I see the sign.
It drains me
of every last hope.
It's slowly eating at me
to the point I can't cope.
It lures me.
I can't see through its trick.
I don't know much
But I know it's making me sick.
It's a war in me
and there'll be no winners.
God how much do I have to sacrafice,
not to be one of your sinners.
Battle torn, lured, drained, retarded and squeezed.
How easily my habits are pleased.
Pete.
Copyright (C) Peter Riddoch 2004.
in its vice like grip.
It takes me away
on an endless trip.
It retards me
like a car out of time.
I can't stop it
even though I see the sign.
It drains me
of every last hope.
It's slowly eating at me
to the point I can't cope.
It lures me.
I can't see through its trick.
I don't know much
But I know it's making me sick.
It's a war in me
and there'll be no winners.
God how much do I have to sacrafice,
not to be one of your sinners.
Battle torn, lured, drained, retarded and squeezed.
How easily my habits are pleased.
Pete.
Copyright (C) Peter Riddoch 2004.