He fills his syringe with poisoned words
Pulling the letters one by one from his rusted spoon
They rise through the needle in perfect order
"Disgusting" "failure" "worthless" "loser"
There in the cylinder they mix together
until they are a perfect black ink
Although he no longer sees the words
their meaning is not lost on him
As he injects them into his arm
He feels the blackness
Ink travels slowly up his arm towards his heart
At first he enjoys the burning sensation
as capital letters make way for the smaller ones
in the moment he's convinced they are lies
When they reach his heart
he becomes a true believer
By choosing to be less than he is
He occupies his excuses
The I cant's and never coulds
The poor me's
All the reasons
he's not good enough
The words stack one on top of the other
until his heart is filled with empty
Somehow this comforts him
He holds tightly to
It's not my fault
It's just the way it is
His is a waking dreamless slumber
only lies seem believable
So he injects another word
Then a question
"Why do others have all the luck?"
Some one who cares
Takes a silver spoon
Fills it up with better words
Feeds him nourishing words
Smart, tenacious, kind and happy
He starts with small sips
one letter at a time
in front of him a golden bowl
filled to the brim with phrases
"You are Lovable"
"Anything is possible"
"Your opinion is important"
At first he is convinced they are lies
Until they reach his gut
Until he becomes a true believer
Taking everything to heart
Satiating his empty
Now he can see beyond what he thought was impossible
His actions speak louder then words
His life is not a wasted gift
From this day forward
He's living his to the fullest!
Inspired by Jai Bankson's poem "The Habit" check it out!