as a girl i was taught lesson one: love was the only thing that was gonna save me,
as my mom closed every prayer with “please bring a good husband for my baby”
you’ll find your worth in being wanted, dreams mean nothing with no one next to you so first you find a man and the rest will come eventually
lesson 2: no drugs, don’t drink, steer clear of any vices
poor daddy left his apathy, his family, and his sanity all for the high he couldn’t stop chasing
addict’s in your blood no turning back once you’re lost,
plus boys won’t like a druggie, nobody wants a baggage cost
child those little white lines won’t cure your emptiness, you’ll just ride some lifts and lows,
but open arms will make you whole, you’re not depressed you’re just lonely
a good romance will heal your soul

but no one taught me what to do,
when the one you love stops loving you.
after pathetic pleads with tight grips on fleeting legs drag me by my aching arms to the basement of agony
i’m left helplessly to watch, as my only sense of purpose walks away from me
i just can’t seem to pick the good ones, something i get from my mother, we go nuts for the bad boy traits.
they all end up tornados of broken hearts breaking hearts, always starts with “i love you forever and always” but once we cross the finish line there’s black tears staining my face
conditioned to confuse toxicity with love, i found peace in the trauma. you said that love was supposed to save me so it must just come with risks?
somewhere along the line i began to crave this ferris wheel of pain, convinced myself he always kissed his hand before he threw his fist

i was taught to search for love, but instead all i found
was that love is just a high composed of euphorias and withdrawal so when i no longer had a dealer,
i thought back to lesson 2. little white lines bring lifts and lows - hell, maybe it won’t cure me but it sure did sound familiar

addicts in my blood, i crave the chaos.
i know you’ll walk away so let’s have a little fun,
scream till i hear static and my face is black and blue
knuckles bloody, illustrated by shattered plaster across the room.
I wonder if these walls could talk would they try to scream for help? Or would they feel the excitement in my veins and start planning for round two.
in your absence i use little white lines to get my fix, my face begins to numb
as the dopamine in my brain builds a mountain of pure ecstasy leaving twinkles in my eyes, suddenly i forget the emptiness that i’ve been running from.
little white lines consume the scars shaped like cracks in my psyche
the peak is less painful and quicker to the punch, in my search for love i learned that these little white lines are so much stronger than you’ll ever be

addict’s in my blood, i crave the chaos.
i don’t know what i’m more addicted to, the pain, the drugs or love

xx, Mariah

(unsure if this is even considered a poem and visualized it as a song but whatever)