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cleobug 1d
concerned for my future, got my mind stuck in the past
barely made it this far as it is how am i  honestly expected to last
but i made it, i'm here
no applause, please, no cheers
this isn't quite how i envisioned it
not how i pictured it
still fighting for control of my life despite everything
cleobug 1d
head filled with thoughts of knives and blood and tears and the finality of the silence that comes After.

short car rides feel that much longer one-handed and with your mind taking detours.

an empty passenger's seat, save for the bag of fresh pharmacy goods; bandages and pills and the sting of the chill winter air.

the suffocating feeling of being stuck inside all day, except this home is a body and relief is only found in quick, deep successions.

basement flooding with memories of Then and When and Red and we find ourselves to be lost in it all. drowning even.

wade through the murk and discover us in the darkest alcoves of yourself. we hide in the shadows where it's safest, drenched.

it's hard to stay present around these parts for very long without something (or someone) stirring inside begging us to forget the rest.
cleobug 1d
i'm down on myself a lot.
i don't take pity, i take punches.
grab the wall and lean into my emotions, smash through the anger, the self hatred.
that barrier i build around me to fend off (protect?) others only breeds a battle ground inside myself. i need to learn how to break free without breaking me.

i'm still learning how to let go, to forgive

myself
Soon I'll live in another world
Where colours paint the once-empty words
"Someday, I'll get better."

I thought they were lying
When they looked into my watery eyes, as I was crying, and said
"Someday, you'll get better."

Now that healing is drawing near
And light is flushing out the fear
Here I am, saying loud and clear
"I am getting better"
Didnt think I'd live to write a poem like this...
It is hot
I am sweaty and already tired
a lone mason out here in the sun
my back bent over the edge of the foundation.
Behind me the stack of bricks
in my hand the trowel
snatched up from my weathered toolbox.

My forehead drips joining the goo of mortar
I lay the mortar bed row
and grab the first brick
to begin the southern wall,
the wall that will face the first squall
of this troubled season.
Sometimes one must begin again the project of building sanity.
The thorns in my side
I try so hard to hide
with humor, cleverness, even kindness
but after so long they are well-planted
like seeds they’ve taken root.

I am a man full of grace and gratitude
even changes in attitude
I float on great waves
in my wooden dinghy
precarious atop mighty waters
and angels visit
take me into smooth azure lagoons
where I reside in peace
even serenity from time to time.

I weep in great sadness
occasional fits of despair
drowning there
I swim up to gulp for air
leap and glide into the light
breathe mercy in my flight
pray for courage and gumption
but discover
I cannot stay afloat alone
so with abandon I dive
into bright souls whose hands and hearts
reach down to rescue me.
Some of them are thorn people too
battered, broken, and rugged
who’ve found the courage to change
the things they could.

I guess these thorns are there
to ******* up for air
to give me the zephyr of humility
the certainty of a love
that save me.
For those in the grip of addictions.
Leah Carr Sep 2
The pain beats me down
And ties me up
Make me feel
That I'm not enough

It hurts so much
Nobody will never find
In a life of searching
Such a tortured mind

But you come in
Swoop through me whole
You take that broken
Piece of soul

That's never
going to make the fight
But you show it
Where to find the light

Lord Jesus,
I dont know where you've been
As I've struggled through this
Sea of sin

But one thing's certain
You're here with me now
And God
I'm ready for revival

Lord Jesus,
I'll never know why you left
Left me broken,
Lost, and bereft

But one thing is clear
Now that you're here
And it's this, God
I'm ready for revival
Leah Carr Aug 29
It's been almost a year
Since I'd planned
To end my life

This year has felt
Like a century.
A century of tears,
A century of attempts.
A century of heartbreak after heartbreak

But as I sit here
Looking out over the river
I can feel my weakened, broken heart
Beating

Beat.
         Beat.
                  Beat.

29/08/21
Today I wage my own, private war.
Today I start recovery.
I've been struggling with my mental health for a long time now, but today I made the decision to start recovery. I'm not doing this for anyone but myself, because I know I will get there. Even on the bad days, I'm not going to try and give up again.
What was it like before comparison was compulsory? Who was I before self-hatred was so embedded into my being?
Words' Worth Aug 21
Laid sprawling in the sheets
Broken and beaten like the leaves
Under the foot of a tree
I never gave up

Tied to the fences
Like a scarecrow amidst the storm
Hung like a conjured cloud
Overhead: addiction

Rehab was a broken place
I needed a place to rest
So, I slept off the drugs
And got up the next day sober

Sunshine, daisies, tulips kept waiting
Hugs, kisses, and girls were promises
I only wanted my life back
It lay behind the gate that stayed shut

Rehab was a broken place
I needed to live my life
So, I forgot the drugs
I sleep off life's problems, brighter tomorrow
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