Poetry Series: Recollection

Recollection is part 2 of a 4-part collection I wrote called Bittersweet. Comment, like and share. Read part 1 .

Slouched on the sofa I eventually became part of the furniture.

Drifting through life like a zombie.

Procrastination befriended me.

I rewarded myself for doing nothing by doing nothing.


I became emotionally crippled.

Hardening my heart to anyone who cared to check on me.

My solitude stole any joy I had in my heart.


I made rock bottom my home.

Self-pity became my daily bread.

I stewed in my own mess.


I was oblivious to my state of decay.

Mind, body and spirit slowly wasted away.

Looking in the mirror I saw a shadow of my former self.


Curtains drawn lights off I sat in the darkness.

Self-pity slowly gnawing at my sanity.

My mind drifting into the void.


The stench of ignorance covered me head to toes.

I was drowning in my own pride.

Blind to my own self destruction.


I found peace in my insatiable appetite for food.

It comforted me when no one else could.

Addicted I lost sight of my deteriorating health.

At the bottom of a bottle I found a sedative.


Scared of feelings I went for weeks in a daze.

Only coming out for air when necessary.

Hidden in my room as if in hibernation.


My smile turns into a frown when you are not looking.

I drown my tears in the rain.

I laugh only to hide the pain.


I drafted endless messages for you.

I could never get myself to press send.

I craved closure, but I feared what you would say.

Like holding a mirror, I was afraid of the flaws you would highlight.


Self-sabotage made me a resident of rock bottom.

A fog lingered over my mind.

Lost in my own thoughts I wasted away.

Cynicism captured my thoughts.


I heard the whispers from the dark corners of my mind.

I threw myself a pity party till I was well acquainted with rock bottom.

What a fine place it was too.


My mistakes came back to roost.

They left me holding my head in shame.

If only I could turn back time.

I was confronted by my own mortality.


There are moments I relive my mistakes.

Each of them gnawing away at my conscience.

What if I had done something different?

The past haunts me.


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