A Murky Wednesday Morning

The clouds are low. They suffocate,
And muffle sound, and soak up light.
The baby's sleeping in her swing,
Its quiet groans the only indications
Time and life remain. The world,
This one, seems so small, and set
Off so far from all others. Conflict
Doesn't happen here, nor do elation,
Laughter, sorrow, any sense that
How things are will change for better
Or for worse. All seems set to stay
The same as an unseen assailant
Holds a pillow to my face. I don't
Know why I do not struggle
As I suffocate.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 89 times
Written on 2017-08-16 at 17:25

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