Poetry, My Old Friend

Hello, old friend, I am calling for you, can you hear?

I know I've strayed, but can you save me once more?

Against your warnings I've jumped and forgot how to swim.

I am drowning , the darkness is staining my soul.

Pull me under,

Wake me up,

Help me breathe!

Poetry, old friend, be my own source of heroine.

 

I could not fathom how very addicting you were.

Who knew the dealers could be teachers?

Given my first fix at only five years old.

My first visceral reaction, dilated pupils and I could feel this rush from inside me.

Who knew you could get so high by putting paper to pen?

Being young you do not realize how deep in you just fell.

Poetry, old friend, be my own source of heroine.

 

You were never one to regret just my means in trying to forget.

The poison tendrils of negative emotions pierce into me,

Causing the pain to suffocate,

To fill my lungs and heart with hate!

But I am so paper thin,

My voice is gone, but my heart is on my sleeve.

Save me from myself!

Give me a dose of sanity!

Poetry, old friend, be my own source of heroine.

 

I am a glass replica of myself,

Shattering into pieces before you.

Weave through my mind and memories,

Help me make them make sense.

Make me whole.

Make me numb.

Poetry, old friend, be my own source of heroine.

 

Life, responsibility, expectation, dedications

Forced me to get clean.

I placed on a facade and faked myself ,

So long I began to lose sight of the real me.

I pushed on and when I finally looked up,

I was alone and so very lost.

I am falling to my knees, I am no longer in remission.

Save me please, old friend, I beg you.

I shall inject you straight into my heart and soul!

You've always known the best me,

So, make me numb.

Poetry, my old friend, be my own source of heroine.

 

Poetry, old friend, thank you for never leaving my side.

From 5 to 15, from 15 to 19, and on into the future,

You have and always will be true. 

I feel so exposed,

I am letting you in,

Poetry, you are my most forgiving and sweetest sin.

Poetry, old friend, be my own source of heroine.

 

Hello, old friend..

I am calling for you...

I jumped, and cannot swim...

Darkness is staining...

Pull me under...

Wake me up...

Help me breathe...

Save me, my sweetest sin...

Poetry, old friend, you are my source of heroine.

Comments

Need to talk?

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