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Name Is Narcotic

My name is Narcotic, and I bring no peace,
I’ll enter your life and never release.
With patience, I wait, silent and sly,
Until you invite me to stand by your side.

I’ll start with your family—that’s my first mark,
I’ll extinguish their love and leave only dark.
You’ll try to resist, think you’re still in control,
But I’ll strip you of hope and shatter your soul.

I’ll make it seem easy, just one little taste,
And slowly I’ll lead you to ruin and waste.
The life you once cherished will crumble and fall,
And you’ll barely remember it at all.

The sadness you feel? That’s my design,
I promised destruction, and now you are mine.
The voices you hear, the chaos inside,
Are all part of me—I’ll never subside.

I’ll walk beside you through sorrow and pain,
Through sleepless nights and moments of shame.
You’ll think of the times you could’ve said no,
But now you’re lost in the depths below.

Those innocent faces, your reason to fight,
Are now left in the shadow of your endless night.
They were your purpose, your guiding light,
But you let me steal them out of your sight.

You’ll ask yourself why, if it was worth the cost,
If anything gained was worth what you lost.
But don’t blame me—I didn’t force your hand,
You opened the door and let me command.

Now, I’m your shadow, your master, your chain,
Feeding on your sorrow, thriving on pain.
I didn’t break through; I didn’t invade,
You sought me out, and the choice was made.

As you lie in the dark, alone with your dread,
It’s my voice, not theirs, that lives in your head.
Not laughter, not love, not hope or light,
Only regret in the endless night.

You could’ve been stronger, turned me away,
Kept your life whole, but you let me stay.
Now I’m a part of you, forever entwined,
The destroyer of hope, the thief of your mind.

My name is Narcotic; I’ve won, and you’ve lost,
I thrive in your ruin, no matter the cost.
I’ll stay by your side till your final breath,
For I am the shadow that drags you to death

Name Is Narcotic My name is Narcotic, and

They come into the rooms.
Moving through the cigarette haze.
Dropped ash and littered ground.

That first step inside is the hardest.
Palms are clasped with knowing eyes.
Then maybe a nod, hug, fist bump.

The rooms are always old.
Odor of water-stained ceiling tiles.
Walls of worn painter’s beige.

They hold cups with trembling hands.
Someone pours liquid speed.
The taste of cheap stale coffee.

Walk past a clock.
Glance at the sign of steps.
Hung high so all can see.

Find a creaky chair, near the exit.
Phones turned off and purses tucked away.
A throat is cleared.

Scared of the microphone on the table.
They shudder with fear.
Silence is their false armor.

Hoping someone else will read.
Maybe someday they will share.
A piece of themselves.

They are cheats, deceivers, selfish.
They are everyone and nobody.
By creed, they have no name.

They come into the rooms.
For help, for redemption, for time, for answers.
For life.

They come into the rooms.

They come into the rooms. Moving through the

Remember me?
We met at a party.
When I was much younger:
You were my best friends.
Always there to lift my up.
Always there to make me laugh.
Always there to help me not care, Nor to cry.
I was always the life of the party.
You numbed me from reality.
From the hurt, and pain inside.
You made me forget the bad, and only think of you.
You and the good you came with.
Or so I thought.
Because at the end.
You took more than everything away.you took… me

Remember me? We met at a party. When I