Imbalance

Sitting within the four walls, 

like a flower that newly budded,

I reminisce on the thoughts of 

happiness. 

How unachievable it was, the 

thoughts 

 

Like heaven's fallen angel, 

this life was a similar 

caliber. 

Striking me down with 

each annually blown candle, 

goodbye to the thoughts

 

Flesh and bone

deteriorate, 

senses wiped from the mind. 

Love swept from existence. 

"These will clear your mind."

They echoed, the words, with every swallow.

 

1, 2, 3 a day.

Thoughts, what are those?

This mind belongs to medicine.

Marked is the skin permanently.

20 swallows in five minutes;

Swallow, Swallow, Swallow, Done. 

 

This poem is about: 
My country

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741