Oh, how I wish fate would grant justice to the broken soul,
For then you’d be called to account for the mess you’ve made of me.

To lay bare the scars and wounds inflicted by your folly,
The fruits of your finest hour for all the world to see.

Hold you in chains till you answer for every lie,
Rob you of everyone and everything.

Let you share in the measure of my humiliation,
Till the whole world learns to hate your name!

So that I can finally free myself from this pathetic life,
And find a peace I’ve yet to know.

But instead, I followed you all the way to rock bottom,
Where only the lost and condemned should go.

A place where you promised me warmth and love,  
Where you swore we’d find comfort in each other.

Only all I found was a new kind of hell,
And embraced misery and despair as my lover.

There in those depths – longing for darkness and silence,
Where I sought to hide from my pain. 

I begged for my final breath to be swift,
I begged to be blessed with enough tears to wash away my shame.

Yet, as your spell over me is broken,
And I finally see the dwindling sunset of my time,

I wish the world had seen a better version of me,
Something more than words to leave behind.

Instead, there are broken homes, ruined lives left
To grieve and mourn over another senseless grave.

Because of you – so many are remembered for their worst,
Instead of how much of themselves they gave.

No logic or reasoning, no comfort found
In the poems etched into headstones.

Only a lonely mother’s tears flooding the ground
That holds savage bones.

ABOUT THE WRITER. This is the first submission by James Bonds. If anyone is familiar with addiction, this poem hits home. The timing is right on target, and I am very grateful that Mr. Bonds chose to share this with us. I hope this is the first of many. He can be contacted at:
James Bonds #19111-033 1-unit
Federal Correctional Complex USP-1
P.O. Box 1033
Coleman, FL 33521