For the first time I am afraid of the city I left.
The black concoction I swirled and mixed and added things to for years,
the drink I was never around long enough to take a sip of,
is now the very drink I must drink.
I am forcing myself to.
Because I am not going to find happines anywhere in life, if I am not happy with self.
The time period, the age I thrived in,left years ago.
And I am only now, figuring that out.
I’ve lifted my head up and realized that the only way I found ‘happy’ was by attention and distraction.
You can’t get that stuff when you’re holding a drink of black.