The poison wells up. Where's it come from?
What lets it ooze past what I was told would be
A sturdy gate? My eyes may plead. The world's
The same, but my mind's mind's made up.
It's not. The sun has sunk. All good has gone,
And I sit, broken, on the sofa. I don't understand.
It seems something has poisoned me.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 96 times
Written on 2018-11-26 at 00:52

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Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
Comparing depression with poison is spot-on, Larry. We think 'sturdy gates' works well too, likewise 'mind's mind's made up'. It is all very effective :>)

Esti D-G The PoetBay support member heart!
Don't let the poison win, life's too short. xx