This will be one of a total of three poems. I am 11 years in recovery. These will be called Experience, Strength and Hope. Friends of Bill W will know what they mean. :)
Bottle of Strawberry Hill
Lost my sisters shoe
Blackout number one
To be followed by a slew
Sour stomach, blazing headache
Head felt as though stuffed with hay
Dumped at a cold, empty church
By two guys just before day
A bottle of anti-depressants
A case of Guinness beer
Downed the entire bottle
That they didn't work is clear
Woke up in four point restraints
Screaming for liberty
Blood seeping from my ear
Mourning my dignity
Regrets too many to measure
Apologies a constant refrain
Black hole that used to be life
Seemed like it never would be again
From this hell there seemed no surcease
Just Self-inflicted sorrow
And endless misery
Stopped believing in tomorrow
This used to be my story
This used to be my hell
Today's a better day
But yesterday's important to tell