One of my absolute soul feeding act is to express myself through writing music and poetry. I can truly tap into a part of myself that heals. I would love to hear some of your creations, thoughts or inspiration by way of words. Maybe an artist that moves you or share your goodbye letter to your DOC.
I’m loving 
this SIS 
I’ll give it a try.
Addiction, my best friend and my worst enemy
Addiction, always with me
Addiction, your presence makes me lonely
Addiction, you were there in my ups and downs
'Though, addiction, you’ve created those downs
Addiction, you make my mind go crazy
Addiction, you let my ass get lazy
Addiction, our time is up
Addiction, Fuck off
Thank you, friend… I see you
…
I love poetry but I can’t really make anything unless it’s small (mostly birthday or special occasion) rhymes. I wrote this one a while ago, In Swedish. But I tried to translate it the best I could. I’d say it’s about both addiction and my best and oldest friend. Who’s now lost in addiction again, himself.
I’ve resisted the temptation of our last kiss for so long. When I sit alone on my porch it’s still you I miss even if If I know you’re gone.
The fire demon in your eyes used to lit a torch in my soul. Nowdays when we occasionally meet I arm my demon with Ice so yours won’t take it all.
You fuel yours with more fire, to make an eternal flame. This time you’re doing it for nothing, cause it’s been a while since mine was weak and lame.
No matter how much I used to love us, I’m no more the same.
ALCOHOL, IS NOT FOR ALL!
ALTHOUGH WE MAY FEEL WITHDRAWL
AND WE MAY CHOOSE TO INDULGE
SLOWLY WE SEEM TO LOOSE OURSELVES
DEEP DOWN IN OUR DESPAIR
DOES ANYONE REALLY CARE
UNTILL YOUVE SEEN THE OTHER SIDE
AND MET WITH YOUR SPIRIT GUIDE
WHERE THERES NO MORE LEFT FOR US TO HIDE
IT IS HERE AT ROCK BOTTOM WE WILL FIND THE DRIVE TO MOVE FORWARD WITH OUR LIVES
This is my first attempt at recovery poetry
Good job, honey I love it.
Let me just say, I enjoyed reading it and the fact that is is your first attempt tells me you are willing… Thats all ya need. I look forward to see more.
I have 272 days
Expectations versus reality.
Everyone sees only what lies on the surface. The smiles and laughter, and happy individual. They see no issues, no problems, no worries. But little do they know, the struggles and hardships we may face. We all battle with our demons to try to see a new day. So we keep working and we keep thriving. To make our expectations our new reality.
Maybe not a poem, but some thoughts for the day.
Congratulations. Im catching up 2 ya, lol 
That is so true people don’t stop and ask why is this person or that person so out of control they don’t ask is there a underlying problem they see the here and now and In my experience I don’t have a a"OFF" button so I found the only other people that so to speak “get it” are other addicts people who have been there through it all and understand the seemingly impossible mountains to climb but is possible but it sure isn’t as easy as hey why don’t you just stop it’s a hell of a mountain to climb and just being able to think straight and be present and healthy is so worth it and you get yo learn new ways of dealing with situations rather than avoiding them
Theif
Stolen days,
Stolen nights,
I gave away without a fight.
No regard,
Just regret,
Now a monster,
Building debt.
I think I see,
I think I feel,
Fooled again,
What is real?
Pressure mounting,
Body surged,
So tight in bondage,
Cannot emerge.
Morbid cries,
Screaming out,
Hopeless case,
Consumed with doubt.
Hit my knees ,
Surrender all,
The fear subsides,
I’m given peace.
This journey rocks me,
Forever changed,
No longer my will,
I now beleive.
Corin-
02-02-21
216 Days Sober
There once was a girl in Japan,
Of booze she was too much a fan,
It knocked her for six,
She was hurting her kids,
So now on booze there’s a ban.
I write but poetry is not my thing. I will, though, share one of my favorite poems:
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.Thanks Marc.
Yes! Love this poem!