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Writer's pictureMartin Pickard

Done Dancing

Dark dank fog fills the cracks and corners of my failing brain.

A stifling smog obscures my waking world,

draping a leaden veil across my fading vision,

whispering wicked shadow secrets to my aching soul,

wrapping me close in a mute embrace of seething silence.

 

Muffled and mute limbs twitch as my once sharp mind,

now a pale glow behind cheesecloth curtains,

strives to pierce the murky shroud which now pools menacingly

around my memories obscuring names and faces, dates and places,

blurring the edges of reality, leaving only sadness and uncertainty.

 

Within the growing gloom, my old foe apathy lurks with intent,

a silent assassin unseen and undeterred

in a cleric’s cloak of dusty indifference, with a touch like frost

on a forgotten window where dreams wither, petals fall and deep

in the cold cavern of my core, it stills the last embers of lost passion.

 

Now listless limbs, heavy as ancient stones, crawl through life’s motions without purpose.

The music of the day plays on, but I hear only echoes of myself whispering

“Why bother? Why try? Why care?” and so,

my story now a barren field of lethargy,

where once I danced in flower powered energy

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5件のコメント


Paulette Mehta
Paulette Mehta
2024年6月24日

This is a dark poem suggesting depression, possibly from too little dopamine. Wondering if a little more dopamine would clear the mind and the mood. I guess we all go down there but hopefully not for too long.

いいね!

Rose Donaldson
Rose Donaldson
2024年3月17日

Ooh Martin! Please bother. Where would we be without you?

いいね!
Rose Donaldson
Rose Donaldson
2024年3月18日
返信先

Thank goodness. Beautifully captured

いいね!

Jarlath Busby
Jarlath Busby
2024年3月08日

Powerful stuff powerfully described.

いいね!
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