Poetry

My words.

Creation involved.

Meaningless or thoughtful?

Does anyone care?

Sounds recorded on a page.

Ghost writer, I am not.

Coughing my lungs out.

Head pounding.

Nose dripping like a faucet.

Fever comes and goes.

At least I had a few days of fun before this laid me low.

Hurting people.

Not respecting them.

Enslaving them.

To turn around

To helping them.

Making sure laws were made

So others cannot hurt them.

All that could be said

Was a change of heart.

Moments of happiness.

Tears of sadness.

Joy and laughter.

Grumbling and swearing.

One day can bring it all.

Little blessings

Treating people kindly

May mean your day

Can go from a horrible experience

To one of knowing

That you are having a good day

Things come in threes.

Superstition says.

Sometimes I play along.

Other times a brick gets slapped into my face.

Through will alone

I will get through these troubling days.

Luck and self sacrifice

Have deserted me.

My wishes are not coming true

In the way that is the best for me.

Things will work out in the end.

I just fear it will mean I end up homeless.

School is starting up again.

Audit is in the process.

A trip planned still needs work on.

Finances are unsure.

Friends are amazing,

but guilt stops me from asking for more.

Yeah, things could get worse.

Like the stress causing my depression to spike!

Hospitals can be anxiety inducing places.

So having someone come and sit with you while you wait is soothing.

Emergency rooms are renowned for long wait times.

Each time I have visited a hospital

it was usually there to visit a patient.

That seems to be my role.

So yesterday, when the phone call came

“Mom, I’m in the hospital.”

I knew exactly what I needed to do.

Blessed be thy cup of brew.

My hands cuppeth thy warmth.

Your dark liquid goes down smoothly.

Your aroma intoxicates me.

My mug was full and now been emptied in my stomach.

On these colder days

sitting outside

I feel truly blessed

holding my mug of joe!