RIP

I became a poet when I was born

I became an artist when I died

Putting ink to the paper

helped me feel what was inside

 

As a babe I saw everything around me

I'd lose sleep so as not to miss a thing

Interest sparked inside my soul

To see what each day would bring

 

As a child I had no friends

except the ones found in my head

We'd share adventures in my backyard

and read chapter-books in bed

 

Strange descriptions came to mind

whenever I looked at nature

Inspiration was everywhere

but I was too lazy to get the paper

 

As a pre-teen I found writing

was a skill that I possessed

It helped me cope with loneliness

and feel a friendly caress 

 

As a teenager I died

Things went way downhill

I almost lost so many times

the gift of life to my own thrills

 

Years of diagnosises

pills,perscriptions and crying

lost relationships and failures

I constantly gave up trying

 

Instead of pulling the trigger

taking the knife or rope for dying

I turned to my friend, my laptop

and told the stories I've been hiding

 

I felt better sharing what I felt

on paper for me and others to see

that way we all feel a connection

and they don't end up like me

 

Since then I've seen the light

and come to the side of peace

I've joined the ranks of heavenly hosts

Who went through hell to get to this place

 

I became a poet when I was born,

but battles, I lost some

But that helped me become an artist

when my Kingdom at last did come

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741