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Addiction is addiction

A poem by Connor, HMP Swaleside

Addiction is addiction,
No matter what form.
Is it nature or nurture?
Is it just how I’m born?

It started off innocent,
Recreational use.
Quickly but quietly,
It became abuse.

In the rooms of recovery,
We each take our turn.
We share why we started,
And we begin to learn.

Some to fit in,
And some to look cool.
Some were peer-pressured,
In the alley before school.

The earlier days were some of the best,
Until it led to that first arrest.
The raves, the parties,
The sessions too.
Asking who’s got gum,
And the ‘come-up poo.’

The obsession creeps in,
And we must have more.
Some borrow, some steal,
Anything just to score.

In the rooms of recovery,
Full of guilt and shame.
We share our past,
But there’s no judgement, no blame.

We work the steps
And we become aware,
Our mindsets change
And we embrace self-care.

Life is much better,
We like who we’ve become.
I’m happy, I’m strong,
I’ll just have the one.

My friends and family,
They all gather round.
They stand and they weep,
As I’m lowered into the ground.

I thought I had control,
I thought I was tough.
But one is too many,
And a thousand is