Dementia
These memories, they criss-cross and scatter
And I don't know where they go.
I don't know who I am
But I'd very much like to know.
I am left bereft and dour
That's when I can remember why.
My mind is expunged of memory
They leave me without a good-bye.
Withdrawn, I am craven
And left to the mercy of this plague.
This dearth, it manifests
My mind, making it confused and my memories vague
I can't sign this poem because I forgot my first and last name
I am ever so tired of playing this eternal guessing game.
By Nicholas Bello
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