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.