PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Amidst a room full of my peers, I sit,

       seemingly lost in a reverie of reminiscence,

       visions of vicious days past scrolling in my consciousness--

       what tragedies I've endured! And survived!

       For what purpose, though? Why am I to be a chosen one?

Friends have become ghosts, either six feet under,

       or damned to a living death as a spectre of their former selves,

       drug-addled and hollowed out by chemicals of their choosing,

       their sunken eyes devoid of any light they once held,

       any purpose previously known now betrayed and slain.

Yet, I remain standing, one of only a few from all those years ago,

       persevering along in this journey of recovery,

       bearing the torches of those who've passed alongside my own.

       I may not know my own purpose on any given day,

       but I'll carry on in this journey for myself, for those deceased,

       and those for whom I pray.