Moment of Self Pity

Whether it’s my illness or just conspiring events, I’m on a paranoid low and feeling quite gutless. I’m also recovering from pneumonia.

I feel those close to me are hiding something and I’ve run out of places to turn for or to get help.

So I live in a fog of dread that’s very discouraging and I can only hope that a ray of sunlight breaks through soon.

Tale of self pity I know

Peace

D

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The moderate

I’m the extremist when I want to be the moderate, before I fall for the benign.

I’m the speed of a jet fighter before the sports car, slowed down till I’m cycling on the line.

I am the dead shot in the heart, before the miss of the shoulder, till I fail to load my quiver.

I’m the raging alcoholic where 100 is never enough, 1s to many and none donates a healthy liver.

I’m the trip head lost in a psychedelic dream, the one who will never try that again, before I fall for reality.

I’m the hesitation marks on my arm, before the thought that pain would numb it all, till I fall to the crying in the corner with dark voices in my head who threatened such fatality.

I ride up, I ride down, I’m the moderate that rides around.

D December 2018