They say I’m mentally ill with PTSD,
And an eating disorder – what’ll my future be?
Can’t kick the habit – I’m at the end of my rope.
The future may look bleak but there is still hope.
A paedo struck and turned my world a dull blue grey.
Inside I cry, outside I laugh – friends think I’m okay”.
Why was I born? There’s no hope, just grief and guilt
But to forgive and be forgiven's how hope is built,
If I looked perfect, maybe I’d be popular,
With film star looks I’d really be spectacular.
But your worth is not in panache or physical appearance,
It’s your soul, the “real you” that gives you significance.
The stock market crashed ending my ambition.
Missed my payments – now it’s repossession
And bankruptcy looms with empty bank accounts.
But, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal.
It’s the courage to continue that counts” *.
My son’s in trouble ‘cause he’s hooked on ice,
Involved in vice so we’ll all pay the price,
Now there’s talk of divorce and my job’s in doubt.
Don’t quit, seek help for there is a way out.
The light at the end of the tunnel has gone out,
And nobody understands or hears my shout.
But wait, look up – this is not the end.
Turn around, consult a pro or talk to a friend.
In the cold abyss of darkest purple black I cried
And ugly thoughts crept in of suicide.
Stop – think again, you are unique – one of a kind!
Don’t break the hearts of those you’d leave behind.
And listen well, you’d meet your maker – what then?
So wrote the Sage from a bygone age;
“Those who trust in the Lord shall be restored;
They shall soar as eagles soar,
They shall run with vision and vitality;
They shall walk with courage and tenacity” **.
And they will say ‘Yes I CAN’.
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