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Poem

It is foolish to feel so good, you forget about before.
It is foolish to feel so bad, you might again explore.
It is foolish to feel anything, anything but your core. 
It is foolish to feel this is easy, but you must implore. 

A young man sits contently, smiling at his wife, 
their children around them, seemingly distant from the previous life. Promotions at work are easy to come by now, well thought of, you see, 
all payments made on time, irrelevant of the cost or fee. 

These feelings of joy and happiness seem to continuously persist,
he questions, “is this me?”, this is not the way I used to exist.
He is not plagued by the memories of his past demeanour, 
surprisingly, as for his meetings, he used to be a lot keener. 

Maybe I could have one drink, it won’t be like the previous, 
my thoughts of outlook, to me don’t seem as devious. 
Could it possibly be, that I am addicted no more?, 
is it worth the risk, to live the lonely life of before?. 

These thoughts come to him in a constant drip, 
feelings of joy and happiness start to fade and dip. 
He makes his excuses and leaves the family room, 
his wife and children blissfully unaware of his sharp change in tune. 

In his head he remembers before, how he dealt with these feelings, 
He’d drink them to the abyss, then he’d have no more dealings. 
Head in hands in a darkened room, he sits on his own, 
in less than 5 minutes his life has completely changed its tone. 

He stumbles to his feet and hurries to his car for the questionable road, searching deep within his soul, the power to stop the self-will erode.
He drives to the place where he’ll find like-minded people, 
for him their stories are protection, under the guardian steeple.

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