This is the truth

Yesterday I had the good fortune to listen to a recording of this poem,

 Recovery ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

The story is about honesty and heroes

and I am forced as a result to stand up

and be one again.

Excuses or reasons aside

I have taken to hiding and being weak.

This poem reminded me of who I am.

Thank you.

https://soundcloud.com/andreathepoet/this-is-the-truth

 

 

 

~

 

 

This is it the end of this long winding road

this is where you stand alone with the truth.

This is when you stop telling yourself and everyone else

that you are fine and happy and ok.

This is the culmination of days

days on end that have now turned into weeks.

Weeks, I’m sad to say are now being called months

and at months I can stop and count to two.

Somewhere in your mind you find it romantic

that notion of the tortured artist being a drunk.

A bottle beside a typewriter, a haggard weary face

but the truth in this is all it is, is sad.

Last night I finally I saw myself in that mirror

as at 4 am I lay here weeping alone.

This has to stop sometime and sometime has to be now

I caught hold of a life line yesterday.

There was a story that I heard about truth

about heroes and I remembered I used to be one.

Once upon a time a long time ago

I stood up to my fears and threw them all in the sea.

Clean and pure and naked I faced the world

and fourteen years later I’ve fallen down again.

This time it’s in a bottle that I’m drowning

but everything about it feels the same.

The helplessness, the shame, the self-hatred

the pain now multiplied is even worse.

Last night I wrote a letter to you and I was begging

to understand why you left me here.

I’m still trying so hard to understand what happened

thank god I had sense enough at the end to hit delete.

It all comes together in this moment

in the need, in the loss, in the complete disappearance of me.

The fact that I have taken myself once again back to this place

is the answer to the questions I keep needing from you.

I am lost, I am spinning, I am spiraling

but today I need to just stop and let myself bleed.

Let it flow until it has run its course

and then empty and dry take a single step.

Feel it all and yes, it’s going to hurt

but in truth stand there and let myself be pure.

I feel polluted and ugly and sadly hidden away

in darkness and I’m screaming for the light.

I am the only one who can turn it on because I turned it off

and it’s time I took responsibility for that.

There have been signs hovering around me now for some time

a tiny green eyed angel has been flying by.

But I have taken to feeding off of her voice

needing more than she could ever give.

So I balance out the rest of the feelings with liquor

and the warmth I feel as that first sip runs through my veins.

It’s only ever the first one that feels so good

the rest of the time it’s just filling up the numb.

So stop lying to yourself and to everyone else

keep the angels and the poets as your gifts.

Let them be the stones you put into your pockets

that you touch when you are scared and all alone.

Be brave and strong, be something you can be proud of

be who you were all those years ago.

Be something, be anything, just don’t continue being this

this is your coffin lying in the ground.