He was a young man, but felt old
And thought the world around him was too damn cold
He was a tree in the wind, blowing around
Free in the sky, but stuck to the ground

He was a reckless child running wild in the streets
Afraid of himself and the people he'd meet
He was a man of emotion, but felt it shouldn't be shown
He was a man devotion, but of what was unknown

And amongst this confusion he was never at ease
So he turned to the bottle but it was just a disease
Now he's trapped in a world where he's dying inside
With nowhere to turn and nowhere to hide.

(Sobber over 10 years now).

Nice poem .

Good poem.
Sounds very honest.

Some of your rhymes are imperfect which is good and enhance it since basically you’re reinforcing the message that maybe youre not perfect yourself.

Sad to hear you hit the bottle.
Good to hear you beat it.