Sentenced - Luke Cyr (43 Handicap)
All of life’s choices add to the term
Unable to clean, the slowest of burn
Each passing day your history your past
Moments a lifetime reflection on mass
Stand and be judged, your faults as a man
Cleansing the script try as you can
Fight as you may, to clean off the slate
Unable to wash, sentenced by hate
Stains that you carry, today til the end
On you and your mind unable to mend
Time will resemble, a sentence in jail
Happiness in sorrow your ultimate fail
Try to escape through strategies learned
So easily failed to crash and to burn
This is a poem I wrote when I was about a week prior to going into treatment. Nothing had filtered down yet to the public about me trying to take my life. I was ashamed and littered with guilt. I wanted to put it to paper how I felt at this moment. I didn't see a future, and I didn't believe this time would be any different than the last. But then I was gifted with an opportunity, and that opportunity gave me a purpose. I can safely say that the cure isn't jumping through the hoops of life and hoping it will come find you, because it won't. It's going out and grabbing a hold of life and never letting go.