It starts with a whisper, a subtle invite, A thrill, a relief, that feels just right, But slowly it tightens, day after a day, Turning bright hopes into shades of gray. The mirror cracks- eyes lose their gleam, Chasing comfort in a haunted dream. Relationships fray, trust fades away, And laughter grows quieter with each passing day. Time ticks, and the soul begins to bend, Yearning for freedom that never seems to end. But beneath the ashes, a spark can still glow- Recovery whispers, " It's time to let go." There's pain, There's healing, and paths to regain, Through storms may echo with guilt and shame. Addiction steals, but it does not define- There's strength in the fight, and hope by design. ~aether_the_poet