March 11, 2021

 

 

and for the umpteenth

time that day,

the mind unsettled –

in disarray.

 

and birds that came

for daily bread,

absent from the air –

the world seemed dead.

 

So still, too still,

pressure intense.

That day so different,

nothing made sense.

 

and for the umpteenth

time that day,

all sense of reason

went away.

 

any chance of hope

inside my head,

quickly replaced

by fear and dread.

 

What point – no point

to life, I thought,

when at rock bottom

some help I sought.

 

 

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