Oh, sometimes I lose my reality,
and have a severe psychosis;
my life is a sloping fatality,
sliding on life's bevel is atrocious;
into a sinkhole deep and circular,
with a scream quite spectacular.
Often, I feel like an outcast drifter shabby,
a derelict no better than a stray tabby;
my soul is crumbling into a fragment broken,
I gather up a piece to keep as a token.
Perhaps, this is all just an illusion,
a figment- maybe a weird dream;
but, I have leverage for this confusion,
my spirit and my soul work like a team;
with great courage and heart- I make a promise,
and a resolution of solace.
June 3, 2019
Written for the contest, Eight Word Challenge
sponsor, Kai Michael Neumann
Copyright © Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode | Year Posted 2019