Arthritis

I can see the river moving, sullen, silent, beaten dog,
Intent on getting far from me, and I can feel the clouds
Weigh down, gray bullies, on the still-brown fields,
And I can feel a burn in me, malevolence. I ready
Stones to throw at almost everything, since I can't
Have what I most want: a day devoid of pain.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 48 times
Written on 2018-05-01 at 15:19

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