THE DISEASE

It’s like nausea,
But in a way it feels better.
It’s like a disease,
That you need to feel inside.
It’s like butterflies,
When you’re feeling inlove
Afraid of the dirt
Hoping not to get hurt.
It’s like worms,
Crawling in your stomach;
You want them out
But you’d rather keep the feeling.
It’s like smoking a cigarette
When you know that’s bad
You enjoy the nicotine
Running in your blood.
That’s the feeling
That I’m stuck with.
It haunts me by day
Feeling relieved to lose it by night.
Hope that will keep me alive.