I've always been the one

who stays on the fringes

living off of thrill

risk

by my own rules-

none.

The underbelly of glamour

the parts they don't see.

The street life was my calling

it was all meant to be.

I bathed in oblivion,

in lawlessness, I basked,

whilst reveling in adrenaline and power.

Others did my bidding

they gave me what I needed

and so, they stayed around.

Complete control was mine

of my days, my head, my fellows;

Until the day reality

wrested it from my hands.

Cold, hungry, broken,

I searched, unceasingly,

for one more fix, one high, one crutch,

yet my search was all in vain.

Hateful, raging, lusting

for all that I had lost,

I lashed out, shut down, gave up.

If others couldn't see my pain,

perhaps I could forget, too.

Alas, it was not so,

still it grew more acute

till I hurt everyone around me

so that maybe I'd feel less

ashamed

irate

lost

afraid.

Now, through tears and blood and loss,

another path splays out,

one straight, gilded, promising,

abundant in satisfaction and health.

Though the prospect is alluring

I can't help but stop and think-

Is this even tangible?

Can I live like this?

Is this path meant for me?

For being on the sunny side of Hell

has been my life thus far.

My interlude spent in the shade

has left its deep, gored mark.

Still, I sometimes look off the path, aside,

toward the edges,

where blissful insubordination looms,

and excited lust softly whispers my name.

Every day's a new fight

to keep the demons at bay.

Though ambition burns in my eyes,

I wonder;

will I be led astray?