Bad Habits, Die Young

Hold out your hand

because I'm in the palm of it.

You're a bad habit

And I'll die young because of it.

Alone between the walls

My mind races to the finish line

You keep to your side

And I'll keep to mine

Like a hesitant newcomer

It begins to creep over

That feeling, that hope,

I struggle to stay sober.

My head is stretched,

My uncertainty etched

into the shoddy reconstruction of

The 'New Me'

Upon my skin, it is sketched.

I suppose

it will have to do

'else I won't survive

the wave of You

Just like the tide,

you approach and recede

Or maybe that's just me?

My lungs are full of wool

when I think of where I'm being taken

I was never really cut out for this

Not at ease with being mistaken

I would have it end now, today, tomorrow

than chase my tail

or be forced to borrow,

a sense of calm, control and confidence

To be an effigy of style

would warrant some kind of Providence.

Hold out your hand

because I'm in the palm of it.

You're a bad habit

and I'll die young because of it.