RehabilitationMature

The first week is always the hardest
those twelve steps get tougher each time
Left my self respect floating in the glass
on holy white walls where I saw no more

This is my rehabilitation
From anger, from hurt
from high expectations
This my rehabilitation

Conversations left potholes in my arms
it was too much for any understanding
Try and make a difference but
I’ll fuck it up somehow

This is my rehabilitation
From sorrow, from self loathing
from a divine consolation
This is my rehabilitation

What else should I say?
because for once I am speechless
Turn it against me but I don’t mind
least then I am not alone

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed