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!