Unmeds

19 Feb

crack under door edited

 

Unmeds

My mind is blurry

and my soul is cold.

My eyes are bleary

and the trying’s old

to grasp at the sediment

of weathered, beat hope

chipped and chiseled

by the unending slope.

There’s not enough coffee

and it’s all gone stale.

The dawn’s too early

and I’m still pale.

The pills have stopped working

so I can’t take any more,

but I think there’s still light coming

through the crack under the door.

Maybe it’ll open,

and then I’ll feel the floor.

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One Response to “Unmeds”

  1. kp152 February 19, 2014 at 2:56 pm #

    Great piece. Powerful and touching.

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