Not every day, just yesterday.


Sadness



My life contracts
shrinks
to a single pinpoint
a narrow vision
of what is meant to be.

I can't control
the outcome.

I know things,
I've never been this healthy
or aware.

My spirit
is taking a walk in the park
while I sit alone
inside
depressed.

You say today
is meant to be enjoyed,
Why then do we work so hard?

To be wanted,
to be loved,
to be believed.



October 23, 2007
© Anne Westlund 2007




Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 630 times
Written on 2007-10-24 at 22:39

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Rob Graber
Enjoyed this good sad write.
2007-10-24