Explore original poetry, songs, and prayers that captures the emotional journey of recovery from cannabis addiction. From despair to hope, relapse to renewal, these poems reflect the inner landscapes of healing through rhythm and verse. Each line is a step on the path to self-discovery and sobriety. Let the power of poetic expression move you.
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Where The Butterflies Live
Written by, Michael J. Where the Butterflies Live The butterflies landed on wildflowers.They carried a message,“Your serenity has been taken.” The butterflies landed on wildflowers.I knew how to numb,to distract,to be busy,unconscious. The butterflies landed on wildflowers.I’d traded serenity.I received boredom.Not peace,loneliness. The butterflies landed on wildflowers.They said,“This right here,The silence of wind,The warmth on…
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Psychosis
Written by, Izzy SF coming of age amidst a cloud of purple haze i thought it fueled the revolution but it turned into a cage i dreamed blue dreams while gorilla-glued to screens where paranoia sticks like sherbert and young bright eyes lose their gleams doctors say it’s cannabis-induced psychosis i might say we’re stifling…
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‘Once A Broken Dream’
Written by, Ney Ney ‘On awaking a feeling of hope sometimes I remember and sometimes i don’t all the memories I made on the years of haze as my broken sleep begins to fade. The calming lavender swept under my chine the sweet smell of mother nature letting me in the forgotten spirt and dreams…
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From Magic to Misery
Written by, Adam K. This isn’t working for me anymore. At first, every time felt like fireworks.You showed me the secrets of the universe—so many insights,creativity blooming,getting lost in thought,enhancing the senses,unearthing emotions,recalling past memories…Spending more and more time with youand less and less time with people I loved.I couldn’t live without you.But I’m not…
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Lost in The Clouds
Written by, Fe J Did they just say my name? My head hurts. My brain is foggy, hazy, still filled with smoke. “Fe, would you like to introduce yourself?” Oh, God. That’s my name. Suddenly it feels like the AC isn’t working. I straighten my posture sitting on my bed, hot and uncomfortable. Can I…
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Counting Down the Days
Written by, Rysse G. I count down the days that I am sober, like a clock to how long I can just be in my life without running. 12 hours.There’s a train barreling down the generations. 1 day.Recovery they call it. What am I recovering? 16 days.I cry like I’m unplugged, like it feels it…
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