What an emotional couple of weeks it has been for me. Not only do I feel neglected. Maybe it is a little seasonal sadness, whatever it is – its making me sick and tired of being sick and tired. I just want a day where something goes right.

I have decided to write a poem to describe my unstable thought of mind:

And the drops of poison seduce my lips, my heart in denial and in pain

of the growing abyss. Can but one day hold me in praise of the light,

the wondrous nebula betrays my hope.

And the drops of tears conflict with the rains bitter taste,

of depressing days where I am thrall to life that is written in script.

In my actions, on the stage how can I be this character in page 22,

is my line, ah but to live is the wine of all gold…


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