PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The air is misty and cold.

My head is fitting to split from

bad mojo called Sparks.

Sitting on a boulder, praying

for the boulder to hold me.

The wind fussing up a storm.

I also pray to Creator.

The rain drizzles then comes

sideways at wind's fury.

I am more numb from within,

because I am still detoxing from

addictions.

Now standing in ankle deep water

still praying because I am sick.

I seek Creator before modern doc,

because I am more lost than sick.

I know I need to free myself from

the addictions' hold.

I have a little boy who calls me dad.

I need to do better.

I watch the raging sea,

the fussing wind slinging the rain

in every which way.

I feel like the storm.