On Being Sad A Lot.

Dark sunglasses,
vascular molasses,
paper-thin translucence,
subdermal interference,
veiny designed limbs,
bear the marks of him,
carved perpetually,
onto the skin of me,
and in all likelihood,
my legacy’s no good,
Dark sunglasses,
treasure stashes,
overtaken gradually,
badly mistaken identity,
and, it’s true when they say,
I met defeat along the way,
doesn’t mean I’ll just lay down,
for the circus that parades around,
and let those feet,
stomp anymore on me,
I’ve had enough now,
I’ve taken so much somehow,
time for some peace,
time for some sleep.

7 thoughts on “On Being Sad A Lot.

  1. Time heals all wounds, or so “they” say, but we are all different. Enjoyed your poem. It’s good to release and let go, and the telling of it is usually a very healing thing.


  2. neighsayer says:

    let it out, Hon. Don’t worry about scaring us!

    seriously, fuck all those who would stuff our words and our feelings back into our mouths. Say whatcha gotta say, feel whatcha feel

    Liked by 1 person

  3. acquiescent72 says:

    This is so….relevant.

    Liked by 1 person

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