Addict

I can feel the needle in my arm.
It’s been there for a long time.
I refuse to look at it.
I should take it out, I tell myself.
I can’t remember putting it in.
Did I put it in? Did someone else?
I can’t remember.
What if I take it out for a minute, to prove I can.
Will I be able to put it back in?
I’d better leave it there. It’s there for a reason.
I can’t remember why, but it should stay there.
So I look, and… it’s not there anymore.
I scream GIVE IT BACK!