Bottom of the Bottle, Coming Out on Top

I can’t do this he doubted
I can’t do this he shouted
Letting out all his fear and anxiety
A bubbling mess of insecurity and sobriety
Swirling around
And around
Until he could barely stand, bottle in his hand, shaking

How ironic he thought because
Back when he was doing drugs and drinking
Ignoring hugs and thinking about family and friends
He could hardly stand, staggering around
As if he was a puppet being pulled to and fro never being able to let go and break free
Free from the addiction
The strong conviction to escape his demons

Because the comfort he found in the handful of pills
And the comfort he found in the bottom of a bottle
We’re bigger than the pain of being sober
With thoughts in his head and relapse at his hands
He fell down to his knees
Trying to breathe
I can’t do this he sighed
I can’t do this he cried

But after constant thought and the love that he sight
He put down the bottle over the pile of bills,
Flushed the handful of pills,
And for the first time since he began recovery he finally believed it:
I can do this he lifted his chin
I can do this he grinned

This poem is about: 
Me

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