Security
My poor old body is sagging,
My arthritic feet are dragging
My skin is dry, and my mouth
What has not gone west
It has now gone south
My memory is fading fast
I think I am living in the past,
The past is where I feel secure
I no longer feel security here.
When I think I'm going mad
I tell myself that won't be bad
Because in a psychiatric hospital,
There would be,
Hoards of people, just like me.
Copyright © Shirley Hawkins | Year Posted 2023
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