The Descent
A high is a high, a sin is a sin, no scale to weigh the wrong within. Some cut deeper, some leave scars, but none stand greater among the stars.
Don't make my demons about your pain, my
battles fought aren't yours to claim. I don't wake up with hurt on my mind, just chasing peace I barely find. And if I fall, as I have before, would you lock the door or love me more? If love is true, it does not run, it stays, it fights, it holds…not shuns. I wouldn't cast you to the cold, wouldn’t trade your soul for gold. No matter the times, no matter the cost, love is found where judgment's lost. It's not your place to cast the stone, the weight of sin is not your throne. For grace is
given, not just due, and love is love when it sees you through. As I fight to stay clean and struggle to stay high, death stands still, so near, and so wise. With quiet hands and knowing eyes; it
waits, it watches calm and deep, a promise
made, a vow to keep. Not cruel, not kind, just what must be, the final step to set souls free. And in that dusk, a truth is known-life is a gift we do not own.
Drug addiction, most stubborn demon, nothing to gain, a way to soothe, to dull the pain. The hands once strong now shake with need, a hunger dark, a mind that pleads. A hollow gaze, a vacant stare, a ghost remains, but no one's there. The kings, the beggars, all the same, consumed within this wicked game. A drug, a dose, a final breath—the road once paved now leads to death. I walked with shadows, hand in hand, built my throne on tainted sand. Whispers sweet, but laced with lies, a web of gold, a fool's disguise. Deception smiled with hollow eyes, fed me dreams, then watched them die. I sold my trust to keep sane and bathed my soul in silent pain. Greed had called, I answered fast, I drank the poison, after raising my glass. Turned from light and betrayed the truth, lost the honor of my youth.
But time won't bend, won't hear my cries, the past won't change, nor will the clock lie. Each tick a debt I cannot pay, each tock a price I dread to weigh. Yet still I stand, though torn,
unmade; to walk the path my sins have laid. Not to erase, not to forget, but face the dark with no regret. The bible speaks, its pages cry, a guiding hand, a watchful eye. The law, the love, and the battle won, with the father, the spirit, and the son. The tree once stood in Eden's grace, A test of will, a fall from place. A bite, a choice, the curse began, yet mercy formed salvation's plan.
My savior lives, my debt is paid, the cross stood tall, the grave was laid. The word remains, it does not fade, for he is truth, the king of kings, the only way.
Copyright © Crystal Phillips | Year Posted 2025
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