I put this poem together from phrases written in the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. Writing down phrases that caught my ear (and heart) while they shared, snippets of poems just appeared. We all have a poet inside when we get out of our own way and let the words flow.
Trying to get out of this body — childhood prison.
No one noticed me
dreaming of ice cream and donuts, dope –-
brain food –-
kicking my spirits into space.
Uselessness of my imagination,
ideas disintegrate into dust.
Give me a break! Why am I doing this everyday?
It’s all been said before.
I’m letting go of the demons in my head;
stop being who I am and become who I am supposed to be.
I am in control of me.
I feel love, it never left me — there are cracks I can get my fingers into.
This story has yet to see its end;
I’m onto the next right thing:
The best me I can be.