Tell me, I want to to know, just how it felt.
To hold it in your hand.
Feel it in your arm.
Did you feel the heat pour into your veins? Tell me about that rush.
Did you lose yourself? Victorian.
This feeling, so warm and safe, slowly ripped from you.
Dependency grips you, it becomes all you are, seconds feel like hours, you want nothing more.
Victorian.
Is this what it's like to hit rock bottom? We all follow suit in our own way.
The joke's on those who deny that this safety is our real death.