The words don’t always come
And when they do
It seems like I need new ones.
Ones we’ve not dared to write
Because it goes beyond feeling and sense.
Nothing describes the scope
Of the despair or the feeling of being
Trapped by your mind in a shifting prison.
Nor the weight of the decision you must make
If you want to be free.
I’d paint it in colors
But it’d be hard to discern the black
From the battered blue.
No photo could do it justice
Because who can see inside.
All of these are just representations
Of a reality nobody else can truly know.
Pale attempts to describe
The tumult that inverts into a void.
Life without meaning.
A life letting go.
© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.