Write

Piece by piece he began to fall apart, Time wasn’t bringing what he needed, Hope wasn’t opening any doors for him, It was a carousel of unmet desires. He reached out for help, Excuses and disappointments towed the lines, Held in his little corner, He couldn’t launch out. His mind wasn’t helping matters, It was a sea of turbulence, A road that undulated and meandered, A room of recalcitrant nights. Fighting incessant battles wearied him, Monsters were often at his window, He was living on the edge, Tomorrow wasn’t an excitement. He poured his sorrows into his writings, He let them out of his chamber, He wished they could fly to distant lands, Probably tomorrow would bring sunshine. April 12, 2024.