Twelve years away from the darkness I once knew,
Where the shadows of my choices were heavy and untrue.
I was someone I can barely recognize now,
A lost soul, weighed down, forgotten somehow.
I danced with danger, I stumbled, I fell,
Living a life that was my own private hell.
Trusted hands turned cruel, left me broken and scared,
And in my despair, I thought no one cared.
I was shattered, hollow, and drowning in pain,
A storm inside me I could not contain.
Terrified, hopeless, longing for peace,
I begged for the suffering to finally cease.
But deep in the wreckage, a flicker remained,
A quiet voice whispered, “This is not where you’re chained.”
So step by step, I began to rise,
Through tears, through fears, and endless tries.
Twelve years later, I look at the scars,
No longer ashamed—they show who we are.
From heavy drugs to heavier truths,
I built a new life, reclaimed my youth.
Sometimes, the past whispers its name,
The guilt, the hurt, the flicker of shame.
But I remind myself: I am no longer there,
I am stronger, I’m healing, i’m learning to repair.
Twelve years sober, twelve years free,
A new life I’ve built—one just for me.
Though the darkness remains as part of my tale,
It’s proof that even in ruin, we can prevail.
-HarperWildePoetry 🌿
Harper Wilde Poetry 
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