“NOT BEING ABLE TO MOVE.” a poem January 12, 2020 (Sunday)
Sitting here, immobile y depressed, “What,” I ask, “do I really want?”
I, I think, a selfish and despicable person, am, foolishly, on the hunt,
For, yes, a word to rhyme with the last word of the last line,
But, as with everyone, isn’t WHATweWANTultimately
To feel somewhat fine?
Which, for me, I think, is: to wake, not too tired, prepare for the day & get out,
With some PEACEofMIND; doesn’t TOO much drama make anyone pout?
Can anyone steer from drama? and do things that, ultimately, will bring,
Some sense of well-being? Gosh, I would hope so, but here’s the thing:
I am, I think, very, very sick. I think I must be, & I’m pretty sure I know,
That I don’t think I planned it this way, but maybe I did; must it be so?
“YOUR LIFE HAS VALUE, JUST BECAUSE YOU EXIST.”
I feel this MUST be true, but this I have missed,
Having the feeling that I have lived a valued life decently,
Which, I HAVE THOUGHT, at various times, I did, but recently,
I seem to have been pushed or pushed myself again,
Into the cesspool of WHATisTRULY terrifying sin.
So, I beg forgiveness, from myself and all,
But, LOOK at this point, I have taken THE FALL,
Into DRAMA. [That is what I thought I was trying to avoid],
And now, I try to keep moving within a horrificVOID,
Kindness Prayers for Broken Souls 🕯️🙇✌️
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