Getting better

She’s getting better because,

Her teardrops aren’t escaping from black holes anymore,

Just a sad sky of white and blue.

 

She’s getting better because,

There no more snorting of lines,

She’s just writing them instead.

 

She’s getting better because,

Pain no longer exists like a constant biting frostbite,

Now it’s just staying up the whole night.

 

She’s getting better because,

She has stopped googling ways of how to kill herself,

And now only ways people accidentally die.

 

She’s getting better because,

When she says goodbye, she only means for the night.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

An intriguing part happy, part sad look into a poet's mind! Yours is a thoughtful but muddled time maybe - not unfamiliar but, the power of your writing, its impression - appears decisive, as real as real can be

Depression, sadness, lines and all the rest are the ingredients to a very crumby cake, Tamika. That tragic way you've written, the apparent ease of stating a bio or case.. is remarkable in its own twisted way. No apology, no plead for help but - how it is. Plus, like your very own remedy, your last two lines are brilliantly laid - loud applause and rhymic stamping of feet!