I stand on the edge of the old life,
its call a whisper, a promise, a lie.
Two years sober, but the ache remains,
a ghost in the shadows, murmuring my name.

It’s not the world that’s cruel, not today,
just a hollow ache, a path gone astray.
The weight of a life I’ve shaped with care,
feels like a cage when the night is bare.

I want the fire, the reckless blaze,
to lose myself in the swirling haze.
To drink, to forget, to drown the sound,
of the silent truth that presses me down.

But I know this ache, I’ve walked this road,
its tempting voice, its heavy load.
I’ll come out fine—I always do,
but the pull tonight feels raw, feels true.

So I’ll hold this moment, let it pass,
like waves that break and shatter glass.
I’ve built this life; it’s mine to keep,
though the siren sings, I’ll choose my peace.