The silent murderer

"He enjoyed a cigarette, a few too many.

The way he held it in his hand, made him feel in control.

A glass of whiskey or a bottle of red,

A couple of years on, the affects would soon take their toll".

I loved him,

and all his flaws.

He wasn't old, 

but he wasn't necessarily young either.

Unique at most,

with few talents that mattered.

One included blowing smoke into useless rings,

the other was counting how many glasses he could have before he drove.

Destined for disaster,

or just dared to live on the edge.

Public warnings and personal appointments,

didn't give off any signs.

He didn't care what they said,

or when told him he could die.

It always begins small,

one cigarette here and there.

A glass before bed,

then a bottle in the morning.

Before you know it,

what you thought was harmless before,

becomes deadly in seconds.

He wasn't one for hard drugs,

but enjoyed strong liquor.

He wasn't into quality,

more was addicted to quantity.

There was something about him,

which made him eager for more.

"Just one more glass" he'd say,

then it would change to,

"make that bottle.. or more".

Addiction is sneaky,

doesn't appear at first.

You can't see it when you look for it,

but it'll find you when you least want it.

When you think it's time,

that you're ready for change.

When you're trying to be better,

it'll tell you that you can't be,

 unless you keep going.

Next week,

next month,

then a year will pass by.

If you don't want it in your life,

you better not start.

I'll give up tomorrow,

but even you thats a lie.

For when you begin,

 it crawls behind,

and you'll never be apart.

He was loved, 

all of him and all of his flaws.

The way he held his cigarette,

and let it burn to his fingertips.

When he drank from that glass,

and let it drip on his shirt.

When he danced with death,

and a challenge he dared.

He wasn't afraid of what his addictions would bring,

it didn't scare him enough to give up.

Lack of care,

but belief in 'it wouldn't happen to him'.

He let a lot of days pass,

thats when addiction creeped in.

It's usually too late,

when you want to say no.

The end has come,

when you feel its time to let go.

Addiction is deadly,

but its a killer at large.

One invited into our doors,

and welcomed with a smile.

Addiction is silent,

and kills with ease.

A murderer on its own,

killing slowly as we watch.

Addiction we cannot know,

when it will happen to us.

All i know is,

we greet addiction and let it lay beside us.

We feed it,

and nurture it, 

as it eats us alive.

Addiction is usually our best friend,

our companion we rely on.

Independently it survives,

dying slowly,

inside all of us.