My Past Is My Favorite Mess Up

A new year.
A new tear.
A new mood set in gear.
The times I would hold dear are dead.
No matter what you said.
Nothing is enough to get the bed out of my head.
I try to think pure.
I see no cure.
Shame sets in.
Invite it in.
Revel in the sin.
Demons of the past for the win.
I sit and cry.
I wonder why I'm a victom of lust.
Why is touching a must?
In my mind,plenty distrust.
I look at my self with discust.
Cover my self with a better crust.
Act like a go-getter, Trend setter,happy,positive,fake.
All the acts I make just for other's sake.
Why don't they just take over?
The true me with life,I'm sober.
Missing the high.
Nothing left to do but sigh.