Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad

If you had ambitions to console you,

To not wish for all you once had.

The beginning snuck up on you.

A bleak undercurrent pulling you down,

No matter what you do.

The weeks slip by

Unmarked and unforgiving,

You don’t even care or wonder why

Life lost its meaning.

You sleep and you drink

And you close your eyes but still see

A world full of dread

Fueled by anxieties

And the abyss in your head.

© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

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