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The Bottle (short poem)

4 Months Ago

What am I chasing at the bottom of the bottle?
Whatever it was by now I've surely swallowed. 
Now my body is heavy upon waking as I just crave relief
My wallet is light from chasing my high by any means
 My moral compass changes as I run low on funds
Now I'm contemplating doing things I never would have done. 
I hear a voice in the back of my head saying "Stop this isn't you!"
But I've already gone so far I respond "What else do I have to lose?" 
I'm just another addict who resorts to the bottle when I'm in pain
but how much longer before I'm dead or decide to change? 
Through wasted times I have lost my purpose
Even the thought of life, well, it makes me nervous. 
The bottle was a thief robbing me of peace
attempting and failing to use any substance as a release. 
I've been filling a void for so long the old me is lost
Now though each day gets clearer and I'm no longer engulfed in a fog.
 With help I don't need the bottle to satisfy although at times I still think I do.
I'm being taught that once I get it and the high passes I'll just be back to craving something new.
 I lived as an extension of the bottle but am now finding a new identity
Knowing now beyond any doubt if I start using again my using will embody me 
The success I am aspiring to is now within reach, but I'm still hungry for more
so I keep going to every meeting letting fellow recovering addicts move me forward.
I tell myself that I've got to stay sober and I know I can "one day at a time"
Those 5 words are what I grasp onto when it feels as though I'll lose my mind. 
All those past years I had spent wasted never essentially went to waste,
for they can be put to use as an example of how not to live my old way