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 *****, 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