If you have four friends that are mentally stable, then you are likely to be ill, as psychiatrists say that 1 in 5 people is mentally ill. 8P

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Poetic Justice

These are a couple of my poems I wanted to share...I would really appreciate any input anyone has...Please comment!


Inhale slowly, to take the pain away.
A swallow, briskly, , helps you face the day.
With red-rimmed eyes & pale, white face,
you wear a smile on your lips because you're in a happy place.
Afternoon approaches, and with it will come tears,
unless you can find that last five bucks....for just a few more beers.
Evening wears thin and now you can barely move.
The baby's crying in the den, but you are so confused.
Inhaled one too many lines and the beer bottle nearly empty,
you can't think over all the racket, isn't it a pity?
Polish off the bottle and stagger to the baby,
you can't take the noise, his screaming driving you crazy,
trip over your own feet as you hold the baby high
walking with him to the stairs slurring to him, "Don't you cry!".
He just needs to go to bed now, but you can't see through the blur,
head over heels into black and you hear voices echo, "How on Earth can we tell her?"
You don't remember falling and you can't seem to feel your legs
when the doctor sadly touches you, "You're paralyzed, and, I'm sorry, the baby's dead."

What He Should Have Left

He left his bed unmade, as no surprise to me.
He left his dirty socks on the floor for all to see.
He didn't take his favorite lighter he used to light his cigarettes.
And he forgot to discard empty paper cups on the stand beside the bed.
He left all of his mess behind, I guess for me to clean up,
All his guilt trips, all the heartaches, and all of his hang-ups.
He left all of the bruises, all the yelling, and all the pain.
He left all of the hurt he swore he'd never cause again.
He took my self esteem and tried to take my dignity.
He only tried to take with him what meant the most to me.
Despite all the mess he left behind, it hurt so much to find him gone.
But he was never truly mine when he belonged to the bottle all along.
He left my swollen, purple eye as he stormed out the door.
He left my broken body lying helpless on the floor.
I knew he was too drunk to drive, if only I had been stronger.
If I could have taken the keys from him, I'd still have what he Should have left......my daughter.

**These poems have been Copyrighted, having been published in a compilation book of poetry.  Any use of these poems in part or in whole requires written consent of author prior to use. 

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