Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
ChannierPoems
You held out your hand. To the scared little girl I was. And I— timid and shy— grabbed it and held on. Softly at first. At times letting go. But I found myself looking for you as I walked the hallways of Jr. High. I found you disguised as kind words, disguised as a pretty smile. So convincing you were. When you would leave, my mind would be flooded with darkness. Confusion replaced emotion, self-doubt and low self-esteem. *** for acceptance— your grip started there. The addiction to being wanted, the addiction to being chosen. But when I was no longer a choice, when my name was amongst the whispers in the halls, I wanted death more than anything. So I searched for you again. You held out your hand. I grabbed it and held on. I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t care. I entered spinning rooms, no inhibitions, no thoughts, no pain. I tried to let go a few times, but you held on tighter. We danced a dangerous waltz. What you saw as beauty was killing me. Feet gliding across the floor, glassy-eyed, sick, unable to remember. You held me close, guiding my steps. Unable to remember joy. Unable to remember my talents. Unable to remember me. I tried to let go. You held on tighter. You danced faster. My feet tripping over yours, no longer gliding. Pupils wide, I couldn’t sleep anymore. I could only remember anger. Pain. The rooms you guided me to contained no love— just death— disguised as substances. Substances… disguised as substance. And relationships built upon the mirage, the false images you presented. I tried to let go. But when I would cry, you would hold me close. I started to find comfort in the chaos we created. Tried to find myself in my denial, speaking lies, leaving behind unspoken truths. Time stood still as the world rushed on around us. I looked around at the places this dance with addiction brought me, searching for peace in places none would be found. Crying as you tried to hold tighter, you guided me through the darkness of the streets, on a hunt for a high— my body, prepared to pay the price. I prayed for the night it would all end. I prayed you would lead me to my death. But this time— I fought. I called out to God, praying He would loosen your hold on me. Crying, I called for help. Self-doubt and self-loathing urging me to dance one more round. But my desperation was stronger than the grip of addiction. My desire for the peace I could find in being sober was far greater. My hope for the future me— for the mother I could become, for the love that could grow, for the skills I would learn— premonitions of abundance, trustworthiness, family, and success guided me, and continue to lead as I learn a new dance— the dance of fulfillment and joy. No longer led by the hand of addiction— learning instead to walk freely, as I learn the dance… of sobriety.
0
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 11:27 PM UTC
The Dance
You held out your hand. To the scared little girl I was. And I— timid and shy— grabbed it and held on. Softly at first. At times letting go. But I found myself looking for you as I walked the hallways of Jr. High. I found you disguised as kind words, disguised as a pretty smile. So convincing you were. When you would leave, my mind would be flooded with darkness. Confusion replaced emotion, self-doubt and low self-esteem. *** for acceptance— your grip started there. The addiction to being wanted, the addiction to being chosen. But when I was no longer a choice, when my name was amongst the whispers in the halls, I wanted death more than anything. So I searched for you again. You held out your hand. I grabbed it and held on. I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t care. I entered spinning rooms, no inhibitions, no thoughts, no pain. I tried to let go a few times, but you held on tighter. We danced a dangerous waltz. What you saw as beauty was killing me. Feet gliding across the floor, glassy-eyed, sick, unable to remember. You held me close, guiding my steps. Unable to remember joy. Unable to remember my talents. Unable to remember me. I tried to let go. You held on tighter. You danced faster. My feet tripping over yours, no longer gliding. Pupils wide, I couldn’t sleep anymore. I could only remember anger. Pain. The rooms you guided me to contained no love— just death— disguised as substances. Substances… disguised as substance. And relationships built upon the mirage, the false images you presented. I tried to let go. But when I would cry, you would hold me close. I started to find comfort in the chaos we created. Tried to find myself in my denial, speaking lies, leaving behind unspoken truths. Time stood still as the world rushed on around us. I looked around at the places this dance with addiction brought me, searching for peace in places none would be found. Crying as you tried to hold tighter, you guided me through the darkness of the streets, on a hunt for a high— my body, prepared to pay the price. I prayed for the night it would all end. I prayed you would lead me to my death. But this time— I fought. I called out to God, praying He would loosen your hold on me. Crying, I called for help. Self-doubt and self-loathing urging me to dance one more round. But my desperation was stronger than the grip of addiction. My desire for the peace I could find in being sober was far greater. My hope for the future me— for the mother I could become, for the love that could grow, for the skills I would learn— premonitions of abundance, trustworthiness, family, and success guided me, and continue to lead as I learn a new dance— the dance of fulfillment and joy. No longer led by the hand of addiction— learning instead to walk freely, as I learn the dance… of sobriety.
#sobriety#recovery
Written by
Channier
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 11:27 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem