In the shadows where my mind does roam,
I find the whispers of addiction’s tone,
A silent pull, a hidden grasp,
That holds me tight in its cold clasp.

The nights are long, the days are bleak,
For in this cycle, strength grows weak,
A fleeting high, a crashing low,
The constant ebb, the endless flow.

My heart yearns for the fleeting thrill,
A dance with fire against my will,
In moments brief, I touch the sky,
Then fall to earth with a heavy sigh.

Yet hope remains, a distant light,
To break these chains, to win this fight,
In courage found, in strength reborn,
I’ll rise anew with each new morn.