It's Ways

It seeps in slowly,
Like a new tooth;
  Breaking, tearing ripping
  The soft pink gum.

At first it's white,
And just as a cloud;
 Over its existence man
 Will stain its purity and impurify it's beauty

It'll cling to you,
like an onion's stench:
  staining you and your senses
  holding you in curled black talons.

Forever present, never leaving,
like a ripple in a pond;
  big bits then small
  always causing something more harmful each time.

Destructive and cancerous,
Like a wild fire;
  all that is visible is a flicker
  but it burns on the inside with more passion each day.

Only blue or black days,
Blocking out light as a curtain;
  maybe a small glimpse of light
  never enough for you to bloom you're forever locked away.

There's an art to life's distractions,
aware and awake with anxiety;
  watching, feeling for your each move
  you have to know how to masquerade.

It's all you have,
Like an old memory it'll;
  hold you together yet pull you apart,
  killing you before death and darkness can have you for themselves.

In the game for your life
you want to win it;
  not wanting to not want something, could it be yours
  if only there was a right way.

Author's Note

Any form of advice would be helpful and all much appreciated, only one of my first poems.