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When I was in early recovery from drug addiction I wrote this.


I find myself crawling backwords through fields of glass
Not quite knowing that it's all in the past
So I rip out my stitches and lick all my wounds
Want to stand up but can't be removed
The pain becomes comfort the nights never end
Why no regrets? Why this past I defend
Insecure, So insecure
I don't know but I feel so sure
So I try to crwal forward, but fall on my face
I'm so used to this I don't feel the disgrace
Of glass in my forhead and blood on my chin
I just wade in the mire of my own guilt and sin
If I sit here calmly I can here the glass grow
It's been like this so long don't think I'll ever stop the flow