mental health

Grief: The chimes of the clock are always mocking

Sadness
The heart bleeds mourning ashes
Sorrow cannot be measured along the axis

Denial
Truth and solace come in too small a vial
Another mind-chilling trial

Guilty
The soul fires up questions in a tizzy
The hands shake with gritty self-pity

Anger
Ire is a mighty rapidly-paced dancer
Fury yields a fiery swagger

Tired
The eyes moist and transpired
The legs gasped and lie expired

No way to fully understand death
Forcefully it rides in gallantly knocking
Leaving behind one last breath
The chimes of the clock are always mocking

Categories: mental health, poetry

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