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MENTAL HEALTH Poetry RECOVERY SELF

I’m A Troubled Fellow | Poem

It’s hopeless spring uproot in my heart,

Each morning, when I see her bright face,

Knowing fears covering each painful essence

Making them dance in a music lost world.

Love; must say, a strange breaking point,

Carving memories of a woman I know barely.

Each morning, when I see her bright face

My heart throws the pains away to breathe

Air of a lively world where I’m the dead,

Craving a touch to my tormented soul.

Feelings; must say, the sick and the cure,

Blended like a Beethoven’s symphony

Playing with realities created in the dungeons,

Deathea, am I seeking love’s life

Over knowing I’m a helpless broken monster,

Who never sees a world beyond pain and joy?

©sjwordsmith

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