The torture I put my mind and body through is damaging.
It finally catching up.
Waking up puking.
Literally making me sick.
The only reason I'll take day off.
Is if I can't stand up straight from the pain.
37 going on 57.
Nothing to lose, everything to gain.
It's hard waking up.
When everyone keeps passing my by.
In the last few years,
I've watched people in similar situations
Including the love of my life.
Get back on their feet.
While I'm still stuck in this attic
writing love notes to no one.
With some poetry for the street.
In need of father figure or mentor.
To help guide me.
Through this recovery.