The Poet's Own
If I was asked to write something to reflect upon myself,
I’d remember all the hardships and struggles with my health-
When I was younger I suffered from child abuse and pain,
and now only memories of innocence lost does remain.
I grew up in shame with only my innocuous soul to blame,
for I was only a little girl who never expressed her name-
I wasn’t the same as the other children, but a lost doe,
covered in brokenness and shadowed by deep woe.
I grew older and held onto addiction that made me weak,
I flatlined on the table with words unable to speak-
Death was only for a few seconds, nonetheless I died,
when I awoke I noticed all my family had cried.
Something had to change, my life had to rearrange,
I was slowly becoming my father, mad and deranged-
I knew not of hope, no strength called upon me,
but the death of my soul opened my eyes to see.
Withdrawal became my days as I struggled for life,
for I was a mother of a daughter, a suffering wife-
I needed something to free my need for one more pill,
something to ease the guilt, my heart craved to be still.
Deep inside I knew I could overcome this addiction,
I saw my older sister conquer through conviction-
No one could save me except me and me alone,
so I sought out good counsel and to others I atoned.
Almost nine years later I see the light from my past,
with faith and hope that these healthy days shall last-
I’m a woman whose youth became a problem as an adult,
who had put herself first, as the blame came to a halt.
I need not substances to live-
I only have strength to give.
I help others to also be free...
...those who suffered like me.
The Poet's Own
August 21, 2017
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