Crescent Pines



On the last day of February,
My whole world – it stood still.
I stopped all of my motion,
My head it was ill.

I delayed way too long,
Pretending I am well.
I could do no more trying,
I wanted me dead.

Another nail in the coffin,
The last one I could take.
I emptied the bottle,
All the pills I would take.

But before death there is living,
I yelled out and cried.
My family I reached out to,
And told them, I wanted to die.

My parent came running,
To scoop me out of my hell.
To their home they were trying,
But professional I had said.

I was tired of the hiding,
Tired of the tries.
Tired of the masking,
Loosening the ties.

I could no longer fake living,
And without help – my demise.
I knew I had nothing,
But innate will to survive.

I needed a place,
Time to rest my head.
Rediscover my spirit,
Revisit the well.

Who is LaToya?
What does she want?
What medicines are needed?
To whom should she talk?

No matter the cause,
A cure she must find.
Throw back all the curtains,
To live and not die.

Creative Commons License

Prison 2 courtesy of Brian Siewiorek from