After many a days I write
Write about the things of my past which are ever present
Silent haunting which slow one’s life to the extent there is only despair
Overcome struggles are staring at you only this time with more pain to go through- an addiction
Choosing to relive in pain every moment even though it is the slow suicide of the soul
Not wanting to question, lost in confusion…
To be alone, to be in sorrow, desperate for change
Knowing what to do, but is it worth it if I kept failing?
Why give up a fight that was already won for you…
When failure is not a consequence but a choice, what then?
Addiction- so subtle yet deadly
So common yet rare in one’s mind
Is there ever any deliverance? Will there be any freedom? Is there even any hope?
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