Down, count me
red nursery down,
count me hel-
tearing off my strings, leaving
darkened blue regret.
American Culture, Angels, Day Job, Depression, Isolation, Poems, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on July 13, 2020, 11:26 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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#1 by calvin on July 13, 2020 - 9:20 pm
Am sure, even positive, that all, most, feel this at some point. Hell I can surmise a lot all the time, though they keep suppressed. And covid doesn’t help. Who knew you had the words to express that which haunts -recursive empty ie. emptiness.
#2 by clinock on July 19, 2020 - 12:13 am
good to see you back amigo, weaving your word magic…
#3 by Carl on August 20, 2020 - 8:39 pm
Thank you for your kindness!
#4 by Evelyn on August 10, 2020 - 12:00 am
Nice and lean…good stuff!
#5 by Carl on August 20, 2020 - 8:39 pm
Thank you for stopping by!
#6 by Evelyn on August 10, 2020 - 12:01 am
I expected it to say “darkening blue regret”, not “darkened”…I like unexpected.