No longer a slave to the poker machines
For finally, I have broken their wicked spell
And each time temptation tries to lure me back
I just remember ‘my living hell.’
The tangled web of lies, ‘constant’ and ugly deceit
Sleepless nights of ‘frantic worry’
‘No food left to eat.’
The fear of opening up my mail box to find another
‘I can’t pay it bill’
Eventually they stole it all
No longer giving me ‘that thrill.’
The tormented thoughts of ‘self hatred’
Of the longing to ‘simply die’
Empty, guilt filled nights
‘No tears left to cry.’
‘Yes’, in the beginning the pokies helped me feel
‘Exhilarated, happy, content and alive’
The ‘sounds of lights, the free spins’
‘So much pleasure’ I derived.
The atmosphere ‘most welcoming’
Giving me a sense of security, comfort
I felt a ‘warmth all around’
And as the coffee, cakes and biscuits flowed
I felt ‘so safe and sound.’
The endless ‘jackpots’ and ‘giveaways’
I actually believed I had the ‘Midas touch’
But in the end I lost all sense of reality
And ‘my self, pretty much.’
And all of my old friendships
I had pushed aside ‘long ago’
I think to myself…‘if only’ I knew back then
‘What today I now know.’
I remember clearly that day
When I finally reached into ‘my last cup’
‘I looked down and saw it bare’
And I realised in that moment
‘What I needed, I would never find it there.’
Jen
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