The soft steps steady still
Uncertain of presence until
Met with the cold tips and warm fill
Then comes the melodious trill
From the first silent step
Is the walk of prediction
What promise to yourself kept?
Move straight to the addiction
As if possessed and unable to derail
Push away the constant nag
Continue and won’t go off the trail
Everything is under control, in the bag
Disregard warning of any means
Wanting so it will come
Who listens when you’re but a teen?
Acting deaf, mute, and dumb
Trekking along so unseen
Adults and kids overlap more than we deem
Still there lays arguments beefed and lean
The true hazard classified a dream
Knew of the drama
Knew of the pain
Knew of the trauma
And wished for the gain
Prediction of addiction proven and correct
Yet still always clueless in almost every sect
