so long this sickness, few there are who know
(but why dwell on the negative at all?)
it's only pills and discipline, at last
(and just a thing to carry, like a phone)
a kingdom built from limits and denial,
a life made out of sand and water mixed,
a body made to shudder and to render
a mind past anything like being
fixed
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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