Poetry

I did not let the depression win.

I did my errand.

It was important.

At least to me.

Tomorrow brings another bout to fight.

Once as a child

Chasing my older brother

In what I thought was a game

He caught his thumb in the door as I closed it.

I did not realize he was screaming to open the door.

I thought we were still playing.

As a result,

He lost his thumb nail

And it took months for it to grow back.

Now whenever I look at my partially torn thumb nail

I can see his face through the door window.

Covering up.

No blemishes to see.

Everything must be perfect.

To see beneath is a sin.

So colour upon colour.

Layer upon layer.

Soon I will be unrecognizable.

Eyelids want to close.

Heavy is how they feel.

Sleep is calling.

Fight against it

Or let it win?

Sometimes neither choice is a good one.

It is a memory game.

You forget if you don’t use it.

Sometimes it becomes a habit.

Then all it takes is one day where thinking is required

And the password is gone.

Hide your book with them in it.

Just try to remember where you left that.

Stuffed and sitting

Politely looking

Waiting for your forever home.

I hope the little ones treat you well.

Promises broken

mean

they won’t believe you

the next time.

Consequences follow the actions.

One hurdle remains.

Past that new ones appear.

Those get cleared.

Only to more have popped up.

They are never ending.

You follow the rules

and get punished for following them.

The elephant is in the room.

Wolves hide among the sheep.

The devil is in the details.

Heaven calls but answers for no one.

The mirror only reflects the facts.

I am a pimple on society’s bum.

What I see is progress.

What she sees is decline.

I know patience is the key.

She thinks discipline

More discipline, not patience is needed.

Time will tell.