Here I am all alone,
Sitting at the table here at home.

Haven’t seen my therapist in three weeks.
My guard is down and I’m feeling bleak.

My mind is twisted, confused and congested.
I need to talk to get my head rested.

My bad coping skills are knocking at the door.
I’ve relapsed to smoking, but I want to do more.

I am doing my best though trying to hold on.
I’ve worked so hard I don’t want my progress to be gone.

But flashbacks and intrusive thoughts
Are filling my time and, yeah, there’s a lot.

I’m writing to release some negative energy.
For now, I have become my own worst enemy.

I want to hurt myself, but I know better.
But today I’m feeling like the weather.

Dark, gray, stormy. You know, just downright gloomy.
It so changes me and makes me feel loony.

Come on now, Kim, you’ve been through worse.
I know sometimes LIFE can feel like a curse.

Writing this poem has released some fear.
Take a deep breath and wipe away the tears.

You know, I’m not really at home alone.
Now I can see I have me, paper and a pen.
And the Veterans Crisis Line number for my phone.
1.800.877.8255 or 988 (press 1).