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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