Depression's Illusion
The horizon
desolate
it matters not
what you were
memories
are just that
memories
a familiar road
peering within
inadequacy
reaching out
to what end
tomorrow
matters more
without performance
love has conditions
a battered heart
realizing
I am nothing
life’s miscarriage
so what is left
redemption
maybe a tear
I do not think so
life moves on
a judgement
my memories
scattering
empty spaces
no hand awaits
erase me.
Edward J Ebbs - February 20, 2016
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