In hoping to help her brother, my daughter once told me, “Take him to the graveyard and force him to pick his plot. Because it’s either death, jail, or treatment.”
Bipolar Life- The Journal #74- “Suicide Cries”
Where something beautiful should be, lies a vacant space only filled with the waste of pain. Years of abuse scavenged every last bit of light—a broken mind from a broken heart.
Poetry -Empty
..Beating her in and out.
And there flying free,
Her dreams escape her now.
As morning sun arises,
And newness hollers, "Free!"
Lies the skeleton of survival,
No longer needed or in need.
Poetry- Left Behind – Grief
A few words on grief and loss.
Their Addiction-My Journey- Drugs Stole Our Unborn Grandchild
I went into shock. It took an hour or so to come around and comprehend. When I grasped the truth of the situation, I began sobbing uncontrollably.
Poetry- Where it Remains
I glance into the deep, Back where laughter rang free And life spun with the force Of a million galaxies.