I look outside and the day is grey
There’s no sun on which burns we blame
The bright light, clouds betray
Every day is such as the same
I’m but a lion with no mane
Not but this, the days are slow
Numb and blend with no amend
I fall and rise to and fro
Sipping black I lack to understand
Will these days ever see their bitter end?
No sunlight, pale white, concaves under eye
Merciful mirrors don’t exist
Thick is the dark so I float blind as Bligh
Nevertheless, mentality purges mist
Perhaps a doctor is needed, oculist?
*William Bligh was stranded at sea after a mutiny for 2 weeks.
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