Mind Chasm
When life looks drained of meaning it once had
and emptied of the joys that filled it once
and hollowed of its good to leave just bad,
and I who felt so wise turned out a dunce;
When flesh feels stripped of soul and left a shell,
and memories are scraped as residue
of back when life felt scrumptious for a spell,
I wonder, feeling barren, what to do.
Like aging eyes see less well, so my brain’s
a culprit as its vision has turned blurred,
so lofty feelings that had poured like rains
dried up, and I feel like a flightless bird.
It seems to be a punishment for sin.
The doctor, though, says, “Take your medicine.”
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