In the shadows of the night, where whispers softly creep,
Lies a battle raging quietly, where many secrets keep.
The bottle’s siren call, so sweet, so deceptively benign,
Becomes the silent chains that bind, an ever-tightening line.

The first sip brings a haze, a fleeting, false relief,
A momentary escape from life’s unyielding grief.
But as the liquid gold flows, the shadows start to grow,
And in the depths of amber lies a sorrow none can know.

Each drop a silent thief, stealing moments, stealing years,
Leaving in its wake a trail of unspoken fears.
The mirror’s gaze grows hollow, the eyes reflect a plea,
A desperate cry for freedom from this insidious sea.

Yet hope remains a flicker, a light that won’t be snuffed,
For within the human spirit lies a strength, a will so tough.
The chains of alcohol can break, the soul can find its wings,
And rise above the shadows, to where true freedom sings.