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#recoverypoetry
The vices coiled like serpents in my veins, Their venom sweet—a nectar laced with night, They whispered lies through pleasure’s slick remains, And drowned my dawn in shadows without light. I wore their chains, a crown of thorns disguised, Each link a lie I’d polished till it shone— The bottle’s kiss, the gamble’s fevered prize, The screens that stole the stars I gazed upon. Then came the day the tempest lost its roar: A stillness fell, like rain on desert sand. Some grace slipped through a long-barred, rusted door, And took the shattered pieces in its hand. It wasn’t fire. No lightning split the sky— Just sunlight, soft, on wounds I thought would bleed, A quiet voice that asked me, "Why still try To plant dead seeds for every hungry need?" The cravings hissed, but now their fangs were dull; Their scales fell off like leaves in autumn’s chill. I felt my lungs breathe clean, my skull grow full Of space where peace could build its sacred hill. My hands, once claws that scraped for more, more, more, Now held a cup where clarity could bloom. The war within still echoes, but the core Is rooted deep where light dispels the gloom. I am not fixed—just mending, stitch by stitch, A tapestry where frailty meets the sun. The vices? Ghosts that haunt a distant ditch. Today, I choose the battle not begun.
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Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 3:16 AM UTC
Charlie_Phoenix
Unbound
The vices coiled like serpents in my veins, Their venom sweet—a nectar laced with night, They whispered lies through pleasure’s slick remains, And drowned my dawn in shadows without light. I wore their chains, a crown of thorns disguised, Each link a lie I’d polished till it shone— The bottle’s kiss, the gamble’s fevered prize, The screens that stole the stars I gazed upon. Then came the day the tempest lost its roar: A stillness fell, like rain on desert sand. Some grace slipped through a long-barred, rusted door, And took the shattered pieces in its hand. It wasn’t fire. No lightning split the sky— Just sunlight, soft, on wounds I thought would bleed, A quiet voice that asked me, "Why still try To plant dead seeds for every hungry need?" The cravings hissed, but now their fangs were dull; Their scales fell off like leaves in autumn’s chill. I felt my lungs breathe clean, my skull grow full Of space where peace could build its sacred hill. My hands, once claws that scraped for more, more, more, Now held a cup where clarity could bloom. The war within still echoes, but the core Is rooted deep where light dispels the gloom. I am not fixed—just mending, stitch by stitch, A tapestry where frailty meets the sun. The vices? Ghosts that haunt a distant ditch. Today, I choose the battle not begun.
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28
tricked myself into believing i was okay. took another path, veered off course— now my neuropathways are backfiring. forcing myself to keep my head high, so i don’t slip into the same chaotic state that’s way too familiar. it’s all so tiring. i’m sick of it. tired of feeling comatose, unalive, just drifting. with tired eyes. i’m ready for what’s next. i need something with weight— with substance. with meaning. i’m done keeping my head down. i’m done drowning. it’s my time. this isn’t my ending. this is the beginning of an era they thought was lost. i’m reclaiming what’s mine— i’m ready for what’s next. because nothing will hold me down anymore.
0
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 2:51 AM UTC
joshua-phelps
what's next?
tricked myself into believing i was okay. took another path, veered off course— now my neuropathways are backfiring. forcing myself to keep my head high, so i don’t slip into the same chaotic state that’s way too familiar. it’s all so tiring. i’m sick of it. tired of feeling comatose, unalive, just drifting. with tired eyes. i’m ready for what’s next. i need something with weight— with substance. with meaning. i’m done keeping my head down. i’m done drowning. it’s my time. this isn’t my ending. this is the beginning of an era they thought was lost. i’m reclaiming what’s mine— i’m ready for what’s next. because nothing will hold me down anymore.
Continue reading...
52