Depression

I am arguing with myself again, the most
Beautiful pale winter sky out my window,
A warm fire burning a few feet away
From me. Sausages cooking, I've nowhere
To go, no chores that are urgent. I have
A new job. There's some cash in the bank,
And my back isn't aching. Everything's fine.
It's a wonderful day. No, it's not. Everything's
Wrong.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 61 times
Written on 2020-01-14 at 16:23

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