No longer are my cold feet
worrisome
with my mental
recliner
keeping them off
the cold
wooden floor;
no longer do
I write my favorite
blues words
down on paper
in rhymed
poetic form;
no longer do
I hold onto tiny
shreds of
evidence that form
my reality
like I did before;
no longer do
I cry out for the
weak and
innocent who are
forced like
rats to live inside
a controlled
maze of doubts;
no longer do
I weep for lost souls
or friends
who have died or
family
members who quietly
shed no
tears at all for anything;
no longer do
I sit with felines on
my lap
calming my exposed nerves
while moving
fingers through fur;
no longer is
a depression-induced
state-of-mind
generated when life
becomes too
easy in lieu of apathy.
30Nov12
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