For some there is no bottom

addiction drops people like flies. Dont go looking for your "bottom." You might die trying.

Climbing down the empty well,
Brings along his rusty spade,
Digs to plunge his head in dirt
No bottom yet seems in sight
Comes up for air, digs some more
The hole now reaching his waist
Feeling drops on his crouched back
Mistook it for a light rain
Though was loved one's tears of pain
Never saw it's verisimilitude.