Mommy Loved Her Children
in Addiction Poems about Family
One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
The children are counting Xanax pills they pick off the floor.
Mommy's sister committed suicide in 2009; that's when this all started.
in Addiction Poems about Family
One pill, two pills, three pills, four.
The children are counting Xanax pills they pick off the floor.
Mommy's sister committed suicide in 2009; that's when this all started.
Same here. The full poem was actually 4 pages long; a lot of the story was cut out to meet the size limit. The point where the children decided she chose the drugs over them was because of...
Brian and I were polar opposites; he was loud and wild while I was more quiet and tame.
Despite our differences, both family and friends said we often looked and acted exactly the same.
I never understood it. My skin was unremarkable, nothing more than the average bruise.
I've been asked about this poem a lot. While I was once told I had a Dissociative Disorder, this poem's describing how I personally identify with things. I feel like there's two parts of me...
Little Schizophrenic Girl, heavily medicated so she can't feel the pain.
She will never leave that hospital, never again feel snow or rain.
Tears rolled down my cheek the very first time I looked into her blue eyes.
It's so true. My daughter had 28 hospital admissions in her short battle with mental illness. I lived through as much of those 13 years as I could as I couldn't abandon her or stop hoping for...
in Abuse Poems
They don't know
About struggling through the sleepless nights, anticipating that next big fight,
About envisioning that same depressing sight, then staring at it until daylight.
in Mental Illness Poems
There's a place in the hospital where they house the severely mentally ill,
A place where people walk around in a daze and every day starts and ends with a pill.
Where people don't want your money; they only want your prayers.
Thank you, Sommerd! When I think of all the pain I saw, I feel obligated to get it right for all of us and wind up rewriting everything a dozen times. Thank you for your comment. I hope...
Anxiety rips me out of my sleep, a shock to my system like a bucket of ice water.
I open my eyes to see a demon hovering near the ceiling; fighting it will lead to my slaughter.
These demons cover the Earth like the oxygen we can't see.
Some feelings are shallow, some feelings are deep.
Some make us smile, some make us weep.
Some we love, some we don't.
I, too, have dealt with depression most of my life. I have learned two things. Feelings are just that. They are fleeting. They come and they go. I have also learned to rely on my rock, my...