Betwixt precipice and abyss as wolfs come running.
My compass for escape has been twisted by years, bent to my own wants and, desires.
The wind whispers, "a special place in hell awaits" 
My only hope, is promise of grace. Yet I hesitate as a voice laughingly states "you're not worthy, forgiveness is not in your fate.."
I feel the bite of the wolf, as the addiction takes hold. I've surrendered unto the abyss, my dark hopeless soul.
My light of redemption, is the match under the spoon. Love debased to lust, truth to a dupe.
As I slip yet again under the needles slumber, I wonder; is there but one that will help me to recover...

By Anonymous