HOPE
Letting go,
Holding on,
Losing hope,
Going strong,
7 months in rehab could've been good for my addiction,
If it wasn't for my family and the time that I was missing,
Like,
In rehab I had this vision,
That the sorrow would be finished,
I would look at the outstretched hand and tell it just forget it,
Not red pill,
not blue pill,
I would rather just take neither,
Because pills are a malicious beast and I don't know what to feed her,
Drinking champagne by the liter,
Ever increasing the measure,
Yet somehow decreasing the pleasure,
I'm on the final straw,
The final feather,
Will nothing change?
Is there nothing better?
Is there?
There's not.
But then again maybe there is,
Maybe there's a way the pain can end,
The wounds can mend,
The times I couldn't win can finally be closed in my book of sins,
I could talk about it with my friends,
Laugh about it, not depend
On the pills and the shrooms I did,
Popping 30's and 10's,
Playing pretend,
But those percies aren't your friend,
And I want the cycle to end,
To beat the past and the future,
And learn from the mistakes of my kin,
To never be my mother,
Which is to be better than what I've known,
To never be my old man,
Trying to walk through life alone,
So I put my loved ones in my phone,
Spent less and less time alone,
I grabbed a pen and wrote,
And thought before I smoked.
I drank less not to choke,
I took down my rope,
I opened up and spoke.
I didn't beat addiction,
I just found hope,
-Will Langston
Copyright © Will Langston | Year Posted 2025
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