Chelsea StufLeben Poet Rhyme

Hear Me Pt 2

I write this poem numb –
see that I haven’t shed a tear.
But that’s only because –
the drugs have blurred away my fears.

No, really though, I’m dying –
(falling) apart from inside out.
But when the dope does lift me up –
The pain I’ll go without.

Shame that it’s the only thing –
that makes life somewhat bearable.
With lack of love and loyalty –
this life is ing terrible.

For those I love the most –
either can’t hold me or don’t care.
My babies love me though –
I love my Caedon, Colton, Claire. 

But every step I take –
seems to get me farther away.
Even when I’m sober –
nothing can ever be okay.

I’ve fought for them; I’ve bled for them –
hoping to bring them home.
(But I) can’t even give them that –
so, I cry here all alone.

I know that they cry too –
but just imagine when they learn…
their mother is a loser –
who just fails at every turn.

Staying here insults them –
 (as they) stay wishing every day.
Waiting for their mom –
to come make everything okay.

It’s cruel because I can’t –
for I’ve tried everything I could.
I’ll never get them back –
despite believing that I would.

A waste of breath, a waste of time –
forever I have cried.
Knowing how little I’m worth –
is what’s helped me decide.

I’ve never been enough –
not for my family, friends, or lovers.
And I never did deserve at all –
to be my children’s mother.

I came into this world –
with a cord around my neck.
Whoever would have thought –
I’d still be tongue kissing with death.

As I sit here wondering –
if I should go or stay…
I realize my fate is that –
I’ll kill myself someday.

Don’t misunderstand me –
no, I do not want to die.
but I’m done with just surviving –
I want to truly be alive.

But I guess I’m not allowed –
to live a life of happiness.
(but for) the time I’ve had my kids –
I truly am so blessed.

Fighting Inner demons –
keep on trying to break free.
perhaps though in my death –
someone might finally hear me.

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CayCay Godwin September 21, 2026 at 6:15 PM YOU ARE ENTIRELY BREAKING MY ENTIRE HEART. To stand before me in full addict mode where all I can do is feel because I'm an empath is very, extremely hard to withstand. I'm no stranger to addiction, nor was my addict bro who lived homeless or this one and that one and on and on. Your poems say/SHOUT you want change. MAKE CHANGE, SHOW YOUR KIDS CHANGE (they've probably inherited the addict gene, you realize that?) Walk into a Unity church, walk into somewhere that isn't THERE. I need to find kleenex, hug my kid.