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addiction poetry teknicolours


It happened that morning, as great gray held the sky,
We sat on the steps, and I made her start to cry.

Her jacket bright green, but Her mind laced with black,
As She drew life in circles, and She kept holding back.

Dull light in her eyes, Her God almost a stranger,
She was tip-toeing the tight rope and ignoring the danger.

I smoldered and told Her this Work needs Your action.
And She sighed and She tried but She couldn’t get traction.

I ravaged my resources, just how could I put this…
She was fragile but fighting with Her spiritual sickness.

So I prayed for His guidance, more compassionate care,
As the rain rattled down and the wind whipped Our hair.

I tough-loved and rough-talked, as the dark sky expanded,
And I pushed an ultimatum so heartfelt it landed.

If She knelt with some earnest, and allowed for some bend,
This could be a turning point, as opposed to an end.

As He gave us a storm so the earth matched the scene,
I told Her, this shoulder, was Hers onto lean.

But not to solve or resolve or to turn a blind eye,
If She wanted to live, it was more than not wanting to die.

She let go and let God, braved the truth and Her start,
Flipped Her spiritual switch, and She prayed with Her heart.

The world started to ignite, and We battled to explore,
As She felt her pain, found her lane, and gave substantially more.

Then We talked of the future, not what She’d survived.
And like Dorothy in Oz, some vibrance arrived.

The solution was honestly, not self-righteousness,
Immediately Her jacket, was not the only brightness.

At first We both balked, didn’t know Who to Thank,
Then recognized Our Gods, on that hard wooden plank.

I gained My new Strong One, We farewelled a Newcomer,
Her world dissolved its gray shade, and achieved Teknicoulor.


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