Trapped
Burning, screaming, chapped, in pain.
I feel as though I'm cursed.
My lips are driving me insane.
Insatiable their thirst.
I let my tongue roll over them
I have to quit somehow.
But then the urge begins again,
I cannot fight it now.
At last, I know I've lost the fight.
I'll have to face the facts.
I hold my weakness, hold it tight;
My tube of Burt's Beeswax.
And as I place it to my lips,
I feel my muscles calm.
And I remain with my quick fix,
Addicted to lip balm.
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