Was never a writer, far less a poet
Not even a fan of the written verse
Fighting my demons, my gloom
My life, a quagmire, a curse
Depression, the jealous lover
It doesnt want to let you go
Weaves its lies and stories
Toxic opium, it kills you slow
Floundering in the dark tempest
My boat about to sink
No buoy, beacon or light
A Life was at the brink
My pain put forth in confused lines
thoughts battling impending doom
Dark morbid verses,
Penned in dark claustrophobic rooms
And then discovered a haven
Of imagination, beauty and light
A place of beautiful lines and radiance
I grabbed it with all my might
I am much better today
The writing has set me free
i fly, an Icarus in the blue sky yonder
And I thank you all @ hello poetry