Threads Of Hope In The Struggle Poem by Emmanuel Arunee Mwanza

In the snails' pace of my faltering stride,
Addictions weave, where shadows reside.
A struggle I face, each step a bind,
Breaking loose feels like a distant find.

Hope glimmers like stars in the midnight deep,
Yet friends' hands are hesitant, promises steep.
Lovers and friends, true angels or not,
Hover like spirits from worlds I've sought.

This addiction, a silent, relentless thief,
How many am I free, or left in grief?
Who do I confide in, when laughter's near?
Fear of mockery, or not being clear.

I'm caught in the net of what I swore to leave,
Caught in the web of a past I grieve.
The list of friends who cannot help,
Pointing fingers, casting blame, I yelp.

Struggling, feeling like the struggle itself,
In a world where I am the burden on the shelf.
Yet amid this chaos, a glimmering thread,
A guiding hand, a place where I can be led.

For even in this darkness, a light may bloom,
From true angels who dispel the gloom.
Though the path is fraught with hesitation's dread,
Hope's soft whisper leads where fear once fled.

So I press on, through the struggle I weave,
In search of solace, where hope may cleave.
For in the heart of every battle fought,
There lies the strength to find what I sought.