The Morning I Grew Sober

The morning I grew sober was like none other before.

One day the snow was heavy, and the next my worries had ceased.

I was a new man: outspoken instead of quiet, kind instead of moody.

Day after day, I waited, for I knew it had to be somewhere close. 

I sit here, watching through the window, forevermore. 

There is no disease like mine.

This poem is about: 


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