Despised Icon

My thoughts are turning black.
Here comes a panic attack.
Every day is a struggle to stay on track.
I've had enough of being consumed by your poison.
These are my words of distress.
I must confess.
It's getting harder to see through a thick layer of green smoke.
The deeper I inhale, the harder I choke.
I'm a slave to the habit, slowly becoming a zombie.
The higher I go, the bigger the fall.
The closer we get, the less I need you all.