Still considering my character defects. Trying to tear down my public facade. Found this in my archives. I APPARENTLY knew this about myself a long time ago ... selfish need for attention.
The Clown Juggles
His face, you see, is painted on with skillful delicate care.
His life, so frail, it twirls and swirls through open empty air.
His self, you see, is in his hands for a moment at a time.
He throws it out in open sight, untied by rope or twine.
He trusts, you see, in you to watch with amazement in your eyes,
So he may lose sight of the gravity of the death that he defies.
He hopes, you see, to see you laugh and forget what life may be.
For only a moment, just lose yourself.
You see, he hopes you see.
Original poems that are specifically recovery related
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