I. Seasons
In the springtime of life,
I met a new friend.
They partied with me;
Many late nights we’d spend.
I trusted this bottle
To feel good in my skin.
I drank more and more
So I would fit in.
As summer waned on,
Drunk became my routine.
I couldn’t go out
And keep myself clean.
Drink boosted my cravings
And I spiralled down.
This drug now my ocean;
And in it, I’d drown.
Fall days grew colder;
Insobriety bloomed.
My mind now a tumult;
This addiction consumed.
Leaves turned gold;
Sense of “self” fell away.
Spring’s promise now faded,
A new darkness held sway.
The chill arctic winds,
Make lonely the night.
The hell of dependence
My new hopeless plight.
Abandoned in winter
And left all alone;
Now destined to suffer,
The making, my own.
I never go out now;
I just drink with my friend.
Two of us together,
At home, til the end.
Shamed and scorned.
They knew I’d never leave.
My life was now theirs;
My old life, I grieve.
II. Broken Promises
It promises joy,
And fun for a night.
The pleasure soon wanes,
With regrets in plain sight.
It promises thrills
And ongoing delights
It leaves you despairing
And depression your blight.
It promises pleasures,
Seductions, and charms.
Yet in moments they vanish,
Leaving only self-harm.
It promises silver
And good times unending,
But it’s all a delusion,
For its grip is unbending.
It promises gold,
But gives you the grave.
This friend is not a friend
And will make you its slave.
III. Weakness to Strength
The bottle will kill you;
It captures the weak.
You laugh at my words
And the warnings I speak.
The bottle will kill you;
It tells only lies.
Seduced by its promise,
In sorrow, you’ll die.
I tell you this tale
As I look at your life:
This friend is not a friend
And gives no solace from strife.
Leave your drinking behind,
Keep the bottle arm’s length.
Don’t comfort its evil,
For sober, is strength.
Butterfly, butterfly, drift on the breeze;