Feeling extinguished with this lump
From the modern day apothecary
Lest we should wallow in our sorrows
Prescribed by the doctor of the couch
That hence forth our thoughts be pure
Of joy and happiness preferable
Results are not as expected but rather
The mind is conscious of emotions
Which the body cries to express
But not a tear can be shed
Inner turmoil to continue unabated
Turned like a switch to numb
The melancholy does not dissipate
It percolates in the darkness
This medication not the solution
To overwhelming woefulness

Debbie Gravett © 2016.10.24

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