Ok this song I wrote is not me anymore but for you God fans here ya go

When the Storm Passes Over  by: ME April 6, 2006

When the storm passes over and the clouds blow by
When the thunder stops rolling and the lightening doesn't light.
I will stand with my maker and I will kneel before his throne.
I will be with my family and I will be forever home.

I will ride a white snowflake and I will taste the purest rain.
I will fly with an eagle and I'll never again feel pain.
I will bathe in the ocean and I will sleep on a cloud.
I will watch over loved ones and I will play my trumpet loud.

I will be ready and I won't be scared, I will ask the Lord's forgiveness and I will know he's always cared.
I will be ready, when the time may come, when the storm passes over I will know where I come from.

One more...for now

Goodbye  by: ME November 18, 2005
Dedicated to my female soulmate, my best friend, my lover, and my sacrifice

If I had known that night, it was our last goodbye I would've begged you not to go.
I would've cried, I would've tried but there was no way for us to know.
Time can pass so quickly, I can't believe I've come this far
When it seems like just yesterday that I held you in my arms.
For a while i felt as if I couldn't go on, Meth was my escape.
It seemed as if your path was the one that I would take.
I was almost there thankfully I got scared, I guess the Reaper will have to wait.
It was hard and there are scars, but at least I'm not too late.
Now I live for me and I live for you, I hope that makes you smile
Cause that's the way I'll remember you, I made you happy for a while.
Life goes on, I have moved on, I am ready to say goodbye
That doesn't mean I won't think of you, I will live and let you die.

Another Poem

Make it Okay  by: ME November 16, 2005

Momma had 3 children so she had to heal alot of hurts
Skinned knees, bike wrecks, cuts, bruises, and burns
We'd come to her in tears and she would just smile
She'd hug us and say, "It'll be okay in a little while"

Mommy would kiss all of our pain away
Wipe the tears from out eyes, make it a better day
She would hold us tight until everything was alright
She'd make it okay

Momma's life was filled with pain
She'd drink to forget, thought that wasn't the way
No more smile she'd show, only tears
Not even our love would make her put down that beer

We wished we could kiss all of her pain away
Wipe the tears from her eyes, make it a better day
We wanted to hold her tight until everything was alright
We couldn't make it okay

Momma died one night in May, now her pain is gone
We miss her so much and that hurt continues on and on

Mommy can you kiss all of our pain away?
Wipe the tears from out eyes, make it a better day?
Can you hold us tight until everything is alright?
Can you make it okay?

Lyrics Still Under Construction

Mommy's Little Angel by: ME 2001

Mommy's little Angel or a devil in disguise-Thinks she knows about life cause she's been with lots of guys-Angel loves to party and she likes to get high-Mommy's perfect boyfriend came to Angel in the night.

Mommy's little Angel ain't a baby no more-She's through with playing dress up and she's rotten to the core-Sweet mommy dearest, you made her that way-With the drinking, lies , and drugs then you turning her away-Did you wonder why her hatred for life was so grand? It's cause you taught your Angel to take the Devil's hand.

I Hate-yet another of my crappy poems

I Hate by: ME December 2002 Dedicated to the toothless monster

I hate to feel, hate to be, hate all of the eyes looking at me.
I hate to love, I hate to hate, I hate making decisions that become my fate.
I hate my body and my pretty face, somedays I hate the entire human race.
I hate being idle but yet I hate to try, I hate failing while life passes me by.
I hate leaving, hate having to stay, I hate hippocrites who kneel and pray.
I hate when people die while I have to live, I hate sharing, it's so hard to give.
I hate my glories and when I disappoint, I hate feeling better by smoking a joint.
I hate company but yet I hate to be alone, I hate calls from you on the telephone.
I hate being locked up and I hate being free, I hate being told that I need therapy.
I hate being wrong, hate it when I'm right, I hate to lose or win in a fight.
I hate small places and empty open space, but what I hate most of all is seeing your face.

Poem From Yester-year

Roo by: ME April 2003

You say that you can't understand why I do the things I do.
Why I break down, blow up, or cry out of the blue.
You critisize the way I live without knowing of my pain.
It will be okay as soon as I put another hole in my vein.
If you had walked in my shoes you would leave me be.
Perhaps even love me, as is cause this is the real me.
Next time I disappoint you by not doing what I should,
Know that I'd gladly change my past if only I could.
I'd trade all my pain to be just a little more like you.
But then I wouldn't be who I am, I'm content just being Roo!

My mood swings give me whiplash!

I think that the hardest aspect of having bipolar is not knowing when it will hit and being completely blindsided when it does. Right now it is too soon to know exactly which way I am going to go or even if it will be both. I do know that it is 1:30 in the morning and for some reason I felt it necessary to start writing about everything that I need to get out. I am a 33 year old recovering addict, recovering anorexic (sometimes), and I am trying to recover my shattered life. It's been said that when a person stops using drugs, they have the emotional intelligence of whatever age they started using....I guess that makes me about 12 or 13. I wonder though if childhood and even adulthood trauma changes that. Having survived and endured the horrors of my life should make me stronger...right? I suppose though that mental illness does bring it down. In recovery its all about living just for today, forgiving, making all our wrongs right, and letting go. I try and I try and I try some more. I get it right for a while but then I slip further than where I started. Right now, I have everything I could ever ask for and more. I have a wonderful husband who I love, who loves me for who I am and not the things I've done. I am 2 terms away from getting an Associate's degree in what I love doing. I have a seat on the student government and am the chair for one committee and part of another. I have been clean since February 2, 2009, I work the steps, I go to meetings, I call my sponsor, and I give back (perhaps too much at times). For the most part I am happy....most of the time. Then there are days, like today when I study every piece of broken glass on the sidewalk. Mornings when I wake up remembering those I've lost, like this morning. Times when I have to force myself to move, to go to meetings, to do schoolwork, to play online, to smile, and to breathe. Perhaps somewhere deep inside I know that I don't deserve the good shit I have. With all the horrible things I've done to stay high, to hurt people, to push people away, and to get what I wanted....karma is sure to take all my happiness away. Karma has taken so much already.....my childhood, my innocense, my mother, everyone I have ever loved or cared about, and my sanity. I don't want to be bipolar, who does? But I had plans when I chose to get off drugs, I was going to be normal. Now here I am stuck inside my head that is racing to fast for me to keep up and having to take more drugs that don't even work to supposedly level me out. How could anyone stand to be around me? I can't even stand myself. This isn't who I planned to be when I was younger....I was going to graduate from high school, go to UCLA, get a recording contract, fall in love, have a beautiful house, have lots of children, win a Grammy, and spend the rest of my life seeing the world. Where did I go wrong? I suppose my first memory of what went wrong was at about 4 years old. I woke up one night to a party and when I peeked my head out of my bedroom I saw my parents and their friends sitting around the table shooting up. Later that night I was awakened again to my mother screaming. I found her beating on my dad's chest because he had taken too much, the needle was still in his arm. The trauma continued as my dad began beating my mom up everytime he drank and my dad stopping loving me the moment my sister was born. By the age of 12, I began drinking, by 13 I was smoking pot, and by 14 I was experimenting with cocaine and LSD. I was in a group home from the age of 13 til I was 16 (when I assulted a house parents), but everyother weekend I went home and while I was there I did whatever and whoever I wanted. At 16, I was abused by my mom's boyfriend which happened off and on (whenever I missed my mom too much and went back), until I was 19. When I was 17, I found my escape which turned out to be my poison, Meth. From then on I was hooked, sure there were a few breaks at first, like when I ended up in a Psych hospital for almost blowing my head off or when I moved away....but this state is like a magnet and I always got pulled back to it and back to the meth. By the time I was 22 my using became an every event and not long after that I began shooting up. I found out that I could have a neverending supply if I became the dealer's girlfriend, so I did. When that dealer went away I found another, and another, and another. In 2003 I lost a girl that I loved more than I have ever loved before in a tragic shooting with police, after that all I wanted was death and I used as if death was what I wanted. Then I almost got it, I got sick, passed out, and woke up in a hospital and told I almost died. I got scared...and since then I have been working at getting and staying clean...this is my second attempt. I hope it is my last, as in I never use again, because I honestly don't believe that I have another attempt in me. Ok so here is the delima, I stopped using drugs to feel again, to be normal, and to not die.....ok so here I sit stuck in the worst feelings possible, not anywhere close to normal (more like seriously fucked up), and although I won't kill myself, my thoughts go to wishing I was dead. I keep some pieces of glass in a hiding spot, I have never used them (besides I self harm a different way) but I often think of my little shinys and I wonder if just cutting a little would help. Ok...I am kind of over this blogging thing for the night...Sweet dreams world!