(poems go here)Sick, weary,

(poems go here)

Sick, weary, far from okay. 

Pain, pills, but so much to say.

Ill will,and broken trust.

Write through the hurt,

I must.

In the padded cell, alone,

The weakness from which I must atone.

I could break, and be gone,

But normalcy gave way to a new dawn.

I write from the dark times.

Past peril gave way to wise,

resonant rhymes.

I write in times of peace,

Of times where hurt just wouldn't cease.

The ever distant illness

Inspiring words from the unbearable stillness.

I write in times of peace, remembering old hell,

I realize I was so sick, but still so well.