Depression came knocking me down and out.
I detached myself.
Hiding behind the bottle.
Suicide became my friend.
I thought this is how it should end.
One day I decided to let go of prisoning myself.
I took a pen and paper to ink my feelings.
It changed me.
I never looked back.
I saw triumph from a distance.
Writing became my passion.
My heart was sore as If it will never heal.
Poetry healed me.
It took me out of my misery, pain and suffering.
I am no longer an addict.
I conquered the impossible.
Poetry gave me strength I thought I never had.
I’m no longer falling for what the devil is trying to put in my head.
Still I rise!
Still I rise!