Shame, Slightly Diminished Today
duties, as pride swelled.
Praise me, Mother, from your stark urn.
Death, Depression, Fibonacci, Isolation, Mother, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Shame, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on May 28, 2011, 2:31 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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#1 by Kay Camden on May 30, 2011 - 1:25 am
This is… a good thing?
#2 by Carl on May 30, 2011 - 7:37 am
The poem isn’t.
It is good to knock out the chores, right? There is an unfair dig at how my mom used to deal with the choirs – Perhaps more, an unfair dig at how much I allowed that to mess me up. Thanks for your comment.