Cooped up in his room, needle at hand,
It has control over him, he cannot withstand,
The urge, the pull, the yearning for more.
He’s thrown away his life, in order to soar.
He regrets his decisions for his children’s sake.
A joyful life for them he is unable to make,
Alone, in the dark, pursuing contentment,
As he remains, in their lives, latent.
But what is a life, without a second chance?
The choice to start over again, make a stance.
To tear open the shades, let the light flood in,
From deep inside his soul the uprising must begin.
He can stand up; throw the chains off his back,
Against his suppressor he can assume the attack.
But the choice is his, to fix his life,
Or continue this hell, his family’s strife.
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