Mind
It’s times like these when all my mind
Asks where to go and where to find
The love and life that’s so deserved
When all that’s shown feels so reserved
Why do I feel what other’s revoke
When shame consumes the words that spoke
To happiness in day, and merry at night
For me, it seems, an eternal fight.
Words thin the blood; the pen is the razor
The drug of choice that seems to favor
Those of us with sadness to hide
So much love to give, spilling over the side.
And here we are, when said and done
My mind is broken, and my time has run
Does it get easier, when I turn the page
Or am I doomed to this fragile age.
Copyright © Brendan Gordon | Year Posted 2016
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