A Sense of Purpose

Taking my life,

lots of reasons,

all laid out on paper,

bullet pointed,

then without despair,

wondering what’s next,

I execute my plan

and my life.

 

Failed, still alive,

a mental health ward.

Then five months later

meds and referrals in hand

I return to my flat,

my bullet point existence.

I try to think of a future,

a ‘still alive’ purpose.

 

It’s taken a year.

Those meds and referrals,

a cpn, a new flat,

A disabled way of living.

Now calmly thinking forward,

trying not to panic

I fill out a form to volunteer,

a sense of purpose, maybe.