It's Hard to Say Who's Better Off

My mother gets headaches all of the time,
She says. They're probably psychosomatic,
Brought on by forces at war in her mind.
She's a miserable woman. She has no real
Friends. Convinced that she's crippled
Without any proof, she sits in her house
All day long with her cat and an unending
Stream of news shows on TV. She insists
To herself that she isn't depressed. She is
Happy, in fact, and, therein, lies the conflict.
How can someone who is happy be miserable
All of the time? Her answer: the headaches.
If they went away, she knows that her life
Would be fine.

I, too, am miserable. I have no friends,
And I sit in my house, though I don't
Watch TV. I don't bother to try to believe
I am happy. I know I'm depressed,
And that nothing will change. My mind,
Though it's grim, doesn't suffer from conflicts,
So headaches aren't problems for me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 40 times
Written on 2020-04-03 at 21:20

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