Cold Turkey Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Three-six-o, a turning tide,
Old ways I could no longer hide.
Habits clung, a stubborn vine,
No longer truly, fully mine.

I spun around, a year has flown,
To shed the skin I'd overgrown.
Cold turkey's blunt, a sudden stop,
Like lopping off a clinging crop.

For me it worked, a cleaner break,
For simple binds, a choice to make.
But listen close, a warning sound:
On shaky ground, proceed unbound.

For booze and pills, a different tale,
Where shadows lurk and spirits fail.
Cold turkey there's a risky game,
That brings a fever, feeds the flame.

So tread with care, know what you face,
Find guiding hands and safer space.
Talk turkey plain, the truth declare,
Seek help to breathe, and truly dare