Losing Ways to Cope

Mom found the cigarettes under the bed,

And found the matches to go with them.

At least she hasn't found the razors,

Hidden in a jacket pocket.

I can't use the razors now though.

I need winter to come faster.

I can't walk around in long sleeves

And long pants,

She would know.

Now that she's taken them,

I feel like I need to smoke.

My hands are shaking

And I know that tonight when I need something,

I'll have to turn to the razor.

Because these small things,

They're my only friends.