NaPoWriMo- Day 8: Poison

Poison lures me in.
It whispers from the vial.
It comforts and suffocates.
And I can never resist it.

Each time I get my fill of one,
Finding myself writhing in pain,
Curled up in agony, as it kills me
I've already set my eyes on another.

As the liquid of the poison drips,
As it creeps into me and takes life,
I feel more, and more complete.
So I say I'm just trying to be whole.

Poison is innocent enough on its own.
It can do no harm when out of reach
But if it's there, I can't resist taking,
And before I can think, I'm drinking.

Pain and scarring to the core always follows,
And my body struggles to expel the misery.
But I'm addicted to the feel of the glass vials.
I'm addicted to the burn of death approaching.

I try to make myself love something good,
I've tried to make myself addicted to something pure
And over, and over again I make the wrong decision.
Why must I keep replacing old poisons with new ones?