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"The structure and process of the group enabled me to listen to the tragic stories without becoming completely engrossed and overwhelmed."
Charles Moreau, MD
Survivors of Violent Loss Program, San Diego
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Coma
I walk the road
A road less traveled
Trips through my mind
Lots to unravel
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I open some doors
Take some steps
Don’t hesitate or stall
When I get to the webs
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I creep into the attic
In the back of my mind
To look for the pieces
And I’m hoping to find
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I’m looking for the pieces
Hoping to know
Where I went to
And where I will go
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But the attic seems cold
In darkness a chill
From the memories I remember
And these feelings that I feel
Wake me from this coma
This 4 year sleep
But don’t remind of what happened
Maybe I found peace.
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Coma…..When I wake up
Things will seem o.k. at first
But I will soon see
Things have only gotten worse
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I’m born to this world in search of answers
Riddled with questions
Only to die one day
Full of confessions
Only to die one day
From a break down of emotions
The hands that build
Can also destroy
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Even the hands of love
Even the hands of love
My Love
R.W.C
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